Just a Number
by hydrochloric
Summary: AU. Assassin Ulquiorra's life is saved by Ichigo Kurosaki, so in return he offers to invest in Isshin's clinic. That should have been the end of it, but some things are just destiny...
1. Push

Author's note: This is dedicated to Your Evil Spleen for writing some awsome UlquiIchi. If you haven't read her stuff, you really should. Now I know the assassin concept is so overdone, but it inspired me, so what can you do? I really don't know where I'm going with this, but I hope you like it.

Just a Number

A light breeze annoyed me, ruffling my hair as I walked down the street, hands shoved deep in my pockets. Though it was spring, a light chill still lingered, making me thankful I had grabbed my jacket before going out to complete this mission. It shouldn't have been difficult, just a car wreck that I was to make look like an accident.

I had done dozens just like this, so it shouldn't have even required my presence, but someone had messed up in the early planning stages, so I wanted to be there to make sure that the problem had been fixed efficiently. If the police noticed that the break wire had been severed completely and not just weakened as I had instructed, I was there to quickly and discreetly plant some evidence to direct all blame away from the Aizen family and, more specifically, me.

Sousuke Aizen, my alleged "father," though I'm not sure by how much blood I'm related to him, gave me this mission, as he had given me missions since I was 16. He was the matriarch of our mockery of a family, me and my brothers and sisters whose numbers fluctuated as we were killed or another one of us came of age. At the moment there were eleven of us; he liked for there to be ten for what I can only assume are aesthetic reasons, but my older brother Starrk had a twin, so he allowed her to be a member of the family as well.

Until you completed your first kill, you were nothing more than a number to him. For example, he called me "fourth" for the first 16 years of my life. I'll never forget him standing over me as I knelt before him in his office, gun still in my hand and shaking from the shock of it, the first time I'd taken a life. Calmly he looked down at me with those lifeless eyes and said, "Stop shaking, Ulquiorra." And so I was named.

Now I had been named for ten years and I hadn't shaken since, nor had I disobeyed any order of any kind. I had killed countless for my "father" as had my brothers and sisters and never once looked back. Some I had watched die, some I had done from farther off like I was doing now. There was no room for regret in the Aizen family, the family who would literally kill for money, and I was part of it. Part of the slimy group of idiots who had been raised to value Aizen's approval over life itself.

Walking down this street, I was surrounded by people who had no idea of the cruelty in the world that I was party to. Idly I glanced at the large clock in the square I was headed towards. Just a few more minutes until the "accident" was scheduled to happen, if everything went according to plan.

Suddenly the loud screeching of tires hit my ears along with the screams of the civilians around me. So they were a bit early? Ah well, as long as Mr. Nameless-Faceless-Victim was dead by the end of the night and there was no evidence that pointed to assassination, that was fine.

"Are you crazy, man? Move!" I distantly heard someone yell before something barreled into my side and my vision was obscured by a cloud of orange. There was a sharp pain in my head, then orange was replaced by blackness and all consciousness was lost.

***

"Of course he may be out for a while and there's the broken arm, but other than that he's stable and should be fine," a gruff voice was saying somewhere overhead. My head was throbbing, as was my arm, and my whole body felt as though it was made of lead.

"What's your relation to him again sir? I hate to ask, but unless you're family, you'll have to leave," a more gentile and feminine voice said. Who was talking, and, more importantly, where was I?

"I'm his brother," said another voice without hesitation. As quickly as it could, my lethargic brain tried to match the voice with one of my many brothers' voices. It couldn't find one.

"Ah, that explains why you ran in front of a moving vehicle for him. Stay as long as you like." Two sets of footsteps grew more and more faint, then there was silence save for a rhythmic beeping somewhere to my left. Okay, now I just had to know what was going on. With a massive struggle I opened my eyes to see I was in a darkened room, laying on my side in a not so comfortable bed. After several more brain-tasking seconds I recognized it as a hospital room and the people walking around outside my door as doctors. So the gruff-voiced man was a doctor? Probably. Then who was my so-called brother?

Mustering all my strength, I rolled onto my back and turned my head to see the person on the other side of the bed. Sitting in a crappy plastic chair was a man with the most orange hair I had ever seen. His eyes were closed and he looked exhausted. Very gradually my battered brain pieced it together. The car's tires screeching, someone yelling, then the cloud of orange. Judging from the bandages covering scrapes on the man's arms and what the doctor had said, he had put himself at great personal risk to save my life. What an idiot.

Throat dry, I coughed a bit to clear it. As soon as he heard the noise, the man's eyes shot open to reveal bright caramel orbs that quickly focused on me.

"You're awake."

"You state the obvious." My voice was hoarse, but the comment lost no effect as I watched look of concern quickly become a scowl.

"You don't have to be rude. I saved you life, you know," he protested.

"You shouldn't have," I responded before I could stop myself. Great., now he would think I was suicidal. All I had meant was that he would have saved a lot more lives in the long run by allowing an assassin to die. Never mind, it was better if he thought I was suicidal.

"What, you want to die?" So predictable.

"No, I just don't think it's wise to go around saving complete strangers. I could be anyone." By now his scowl had transformed into a look of surprise and then a more neutral expression. He was so expressive.

"You're alive, aren't you? Therefore it doesn't matter who you are, you're life was worth saving."

"How poetic." Now the scowl was back. Before he could open his mouth to respond, however, the sound of my phone vibrating from its perch on a pile of my clothes interrupted him. For a moment we both looked at it, then he silently picked it up and handed it to me. The caller id read "Aizen."

"Aizen," I answered it tonelessly. This was not destined to be a pleasant conversation.

"Where are you? That was a simple assignment. You should have been back hours ago." How I wished it was fatherly concern he was showing, but alas, I knew better. He was merely worried that I'd messed up.

"The hospital. I don't know how the mission ended."

"It went fine. When you didn't come back I had Yammy investigate. I didn't call about that, though."

"Why, then?"

"Your brother Aaroniero is dead. He was killed last night by a member of the Soul Society." Ah, the Soul Society. The Aizen clan's mortal enemy, they were constantly thwarting out attempts at murder and trying to kill us in order to protect the innocent or something of that sort. Noble trash.

"The fool."

"Will you be released in enough time to come to the funeral?"

"That depends on a number of things, not the least of which is when the funeral is."

"Saturday. Be there." Then he hung up on me, as he always did. I felt no sorrow for Aaroniero. As far as I was concerned, he wasn't really my family at all and must have been trash to allow himself to be killed by a member of the Soul Society. They weren't clever and they weren't powerful, so he shouldn't have become their victim.

"What was that about?" The orange-haired man next to me asked once I had shoved my phone away. Calmly I considered not responding, then decided it would just be easiest to tell the truth. Besides that, I abhor lies.

"One of my actual brothers is dead," I told him, carefully watching his facial expressing change once again. It was better than television.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Concern was etched all over his features again now, but I decided I liked shock better and wanted to see that one again.

"It doesn't matter. He was a fool." There it was. Now the scowl. That seemed to be his fallback expression.

"Are you really that heartless?"

"Yes." For a moment he sat in silence, mulling something over.

"I'm still glad I saved you," he finally told me, looking dead into my eyes which was something most people avoided doing. I didn't respond, instead choosing to turn away from him and stare straight ahead, letting the throbbing in my head die down. After a moment he spoke again, though, so I turned back to face him.

"Why do you have those lines tattooed on your face?" he asked.

"They're not tattoos, it's just ink that fades after a couple of days."

"That didn't answer my question." Of course I wasn't going to answer his question about the teal tear tracts that made their way down each of my cheeks, not when the answer was so personal and, shall we say, incriminating.

"But it's all you're getting." Now his scowl was paired with a cute pout. Wait, did I just think his pout was cute? Impossible. It must be the drugs they had filled me with.

"You sure are a weird guy." He didn't even know the half of it.

Soon after his rather blunt comment I fell asleep, fully expecting him to be gone and never to see him again after that night. When I awoke the next morning he was indeed gone, but a nurse was there, changing out my iv fluid. After she finished what she was doing she turned to me and noticed I was awake.

"Good morning," she greeted me with a smile. "You're brother just stepped out to get something to eat, but he'll be back soon."

For a moment I looked at her in shock. Did she mean the orange-haired man? She must; if she did, then that meant he had been there all night.

"May I speak to the doctor?" I asked her. Nodding, she quickly left, presumably to find the man from the night before. After a moment she re-entered, white-bearded man in a lab coat in tow.

"Hello there!" the familiar gruff voice exclaimed. "You woke up fast. I was expecting it to be a couple of days, but I guess you weren't as shook up as we thought."

I nodded deftly, hoping this meant I would be free to go by Saturday. I was in no mood to disobey an order.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine."

"Well, that's probably due to all the drugs we've got in your system! You're very lucky you're brother was there to shove you out of the way of that car, though, young man. You owe him your life." I hated owing people things, especially my life. Sigh.

"When do you think I'll be able to go?" I asked, wanting him to cut to the chase.

"Well, I'll look you over, but you should be able to leave later today as long as you don't have a concussion. You hit your head pretty hard." I nodded again, and he came forward to "look me over," saying something to the nurse as he did. She nodded and left the room again, returning with a clipboard. Hoping those were my release papers, I allowed him to shine a light in each of my eyes and answered each of his questions.

"When is your mother's birthday?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"You can't remember?" he asked seriously, looking at the nurse.

"No. I never knew my mother."

"Oh. Well, then, your father." His questions progressed in this manner, testing my memory, comprehension, and analytical skills before he was satisfied there was no lasting damage. Finally he backed up a few steps just as the orange-haired man was returning.

"Well, Mr. Aizen, I think you should be alright to go. Ms. Inoue will brief you on how to take care of that arm of yours then put you through discharge and you should be all set."

"Thank you." As the doctor left he stopped at the door to talk to the man for a little while. The nurse immediately started explaining all about what I should do for my arm, but I was barely listening. I had broken bones loads of times, and usually just had one of my multiple siblings set the bone for me. An assassin's threshold for pain is fairly high. Finally she left to go process my paperwork, leaving me and the man alone once again.

"So the doctor said you could go."

"You state the obvious." For the first time I saw him smile and decided that was my favorite of his expressions so far.

"Here. He also said you could change." He handed me the cloths I had been wearing yesterday, a simple outfit of jeans, a button up, and a jacket. There was a bit of blood on it and I wondered vaguely if it was his or mine. The nurse had removed my iv as she talked, but with the cast on it was still difficult to get dressed. The man stood awkwardly, seemingly somewhere in between leaving or asking if I need help.

"Why do you have a four tattooed on your chest? Or is that just ink too?" His tone was slightly teasing, but I could tell he was actually curious too.

"Everyone in my family has one. I think my father had us tattooed so he could tell us apart." The man laughed, but I was serious. That really was my theory as to why he insisted we all be tattooed in order of age when we were eight. It also helped build up our pain tolerance.

"Hey, I didn't know you were an Aizen," he said suddenly. That name did hold some weight, seeing as we were one of the wealthiest families in Japan, though no one knew the real reason why. They simply thought we were a rich family who knew how to invest, which actually wasn't that far from the truth other than were we originally got the money from.

"Yes. Ulquiorra Aizen, fourth child."

"Ichigo Kurosaki." I gave him a stiff nod then twirled my finger around. He got the message and turned around while I put my pants on. "Hey, I think we should be friends."

For the first time in a while I was actually surprised. Who just goes out and says something like that to someone they barely know?

"Excuse me?" Cautiously he turned back around to face me as I scooted to the edge of the bed and got up.

"Whoa there," he said, sweeping forward and steadying me with one hand on my shoulder and the other clasping mine. Once I was steady I gave him my best "don't touch me" look and he backed off a bit.

"Anyway, I think it's only logical that we become friends. I like you." There was that smile again, more like a cocky grin.

"No thank you."

"Oh come on. Can I at least give you a ride home?" Why was this man so bent on taking care of me? Then he said the magic words. "You owe me."

Damn, I did owe him. In fact, in light of the fact that he saved my life, a friendship seemed like a small order. But just because he saved my life didn't mean it was his to control. I could choose my own friends.

"Are you so desperate for companionship?" There was a pause, then he seemed to break.

"Okay, look. I did know who you were, although not until after we go here, so don't think I only saved you for this but…" he paused yet again, seeming to struggle for the words. "My father has a clinic, and it's funded by the Aizens, but since he's not turning a profit, they're going to stop backing us." That did seem like something my father would do; back out on an investment if it wasn't making him any money, no matter how charitable it was.

"If you want to get in good with him by being my friend, it won't do you any good. He doesn't give a damn about his children, let alone who they're friends with." As soon as I said this he looked so disappointed I had to continue. "But I do owe you, so I'll make you a deal. As a return favor for saving me, I'll personally invest in your little clinic."

"You can do that?" His eyes were wide with that shocked expression I deemed my second favorite of his.

"Of course I can. I make my own money and can do what I like with it." That was true. I was allowed to keep a pretty good cut of the commission earned for each hit I completed. Aizen liked to encourage us to form empires of our own to further the Aizen family name and fortune. In a moment Ichigo had my hand in his again and was shaking it.

"Thank you," he said earnestly. I merely ignored him and walked toward the door, saying without even turning around,

"Oh, and I would like a ride home."


	2. Pull

Just a Number

On the ride home Aizen called again, requesting my presence immediately in his office upon my return to the mansion. During his first call he had seemed too distracted by Aaroniero's death to be upset with me about landing myself in the hospital, but maybe he had changed his mind. Hopefully not, but in any case, I didn't want to incur my father's wrath, so I would go.

"What was that all about?" Ichigo asked from the driver's seat.

"You've got my money, you know. You don't have to do that."

"Do what?"

"Act interested in my life." He glanced over at me for a second then put his eyes back on the road, scowl in place.

"I wasn't acting. You think I was just going after your money like some sort of gold digger?" I raised an eyebrow.

"No, I thought you were just after my body," I said, nearly clapping a hand over my mouth as soon as the words came out. Had I just made a joke? It had been _years_ since I had even thought of something funny I might say. Ichigo certainly thought it was funny.

"Yeah, that's it," he chuckled, then sobered up. "But seriously, I really am interested in you. I mean, you said I shouldn't have saved you because you could be anyone. Well, I want to know just who it was I saved."

He just had to keep bringing that up. Aizen had always said that you couldn't just buy people off; for once, he was right. For a moment I just looked at him as he drove. Who was he? A crazy guy with a shock of orange hair and light brown eyes and a face that could show any expression who jumps in front of cars for people he doesn't know.

"It was my father."

"Yeah? What'd the old man want?"

"Me to see him once I got home, probably to either talk about how I ended up at the hospital or about Aaroniero."

"The brother of your's that just died?"

"Yes. He'll probably want me to arrange the funeral."

"That's a little harsh, don't you think? Having to arrange your own brother's funeral the day after his death."

"It doesn't matter. Really, he was just trash." Once again Ichigo glanced at me, expression puzzled.

The rest of the ride passed in silence save for my telling him directions, the houses surrounding them progressively getting nicer and nicer until we arrived at the gate.

"This your place?" He asked, looking up the massive drive.

"My father's. He has us all live here. It's… disgusting," I sighed, then leaned over him to punch in the code to open the gate.

"Um…" Settling back in my own seat, I gave him a blank stare, the kind that could make even him uncomfortable. "You were in my lap," he explained weakly as the gate opened and he started up the drive.

Inwardly laughing, I let my eyes trail on him. Being in his lap hadn't been that bad…Damn the drugs they had so generously distributed to me. Yet the throbbing in my head had returned, so I couldn't possibly have that many drugs in my system. Best not to think of that, though, not when in a few minutes I'd have to face Aizen.

"Thank you," I said as I got out of the car at the top of the drive. "And I would like to meet your father so we can talk about my investment."

"Oh, right. You can call me whenever to set that up," he said, hastily scribbling down his number and handing it to me. With one last nod to him, I turned to walk away, but he stopped me.

"Hey, can I have yours?" Slowly I turned back to face him.

"My what?"

"Your number." With a sigh I pulled out the small notebook I always had in my pocket on missions in case anything of note should happen and neatly wrote my name and phone number.

"I never do this," I told him as he took it from me. On his face was that cocky smirk paired with, could I be mistaken, a blush?

"Hey, I'm just a client, right?" Deftly I nodded, closed the door, and walked away quickly, intending to get to the house without turning back again. That stupid man had already gotten me to do a long list of things I simply don't do, so I wasn't going to give him the chance for more.

After what seemed like an age I made it to the door and shut it quickly behind me, then made my was to Aizen's office. Before I could get there, however, my blue-haired younger brother stopped me. He was standing by the window that looked over the driveway.

"Yo, yeh got yerself a boyfriend?" Grimmjow jeered obnoxiously. I didn't have time for him ever, let alone when I had an appointment with Aizen.

"If you lay a finger on him I will not hesitate to kill you," I told him and left it at that, continuing on my way.

"Heh, I'd like to se ya try, you-- hey! Don' walk away from me when I'm talkin' to ya!"

"Blathering idiot," I muttered under my breath.

Finally I made it to Aizen's office and I entered without hesitation. He always said that family should have no need to knock, but really he was just trying to foster some semblance of trust between us. As though I would ever turn my back on him for a second.

"Ulquiorra. You are well?" Aizen drawled from his position sitting behind his desk, not even looking up from his papers.

"Of course, Father." The word was like poison from my lips. After a moment he signed his name at the bottom of the paper he was reading and looked up at me, his eyes lingering on the blue cast encasing my right arm.

"I have a new mission for you," he told me, gesturing for me to sit before him. Calmly I did so, being careful not jostle my broken arm. "Asami Saito, possibly part of the Soul Society. I'd like her to be dispatched before Aaroniero's funeral." He didn't mention who had ordered the hit, and that could mean only one thing-- this was a personal favor. Even so, just three days to complete a mission was a stretch.

He waited as I mulled it over, seeing if I had any questions. After a moment I nodded, fixing my impassive gaze on him.

"Also, I would like you to arrange for your brother's funeral on Saturday. That gives you three days to accomplish both jobs I have given you, which I think should be enough time. Several of my investors got wind of the death, so I'm making it into something of an…event." Of course Aizen would turn a death into a business advantage. And of course I was his tool to make that happen.

"Yes, Aizen."

"Ah, ah…"

"Father," I ground out. Really it took everything I had not to roll my eyes, let alone not allow the sarcasm to drip into my tone, but I managed as ever. Twenty-six years of dealing with this man had trained me well.

"Good. You may go now, and do try to keep yourself out of trouble. Wouldn't want to go inconveniencing Kurosaki again, would we?" Of course he knew. I really should see more of these things coming. I one fluid motion, I bowed then stood, leaving the room at a lazy pace though I really wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. He had given me three days to do two things that usually took a week each at the least. And from the sounds of it, my dear brother's burial had better be impressive.

Fortunately I met no one in the hall as I rushed to my room, thinking hard. Tomorrow I could complete the hit, giving me Thursday and Friday to plan. That would mean no sleep tonight, but it was the only feasible way. The first thing would be to find out Saito's address and how secure her surroundings were. I had been doing this for too long to go in blind, no matter what kind of rush I was in.

After a quick shower and change out of yesterday's bloody cloths, I got to work, not realizing the sun had set until it became so dark in my room that I had to turn on the lights to see. Several searches and cross references had yielded surprisingly fruitful results on the subject of Saito. She lived in a fairly seedy nieghborhood and had no living family. By day she was a secretary in an office building nearby to where she lived, luckily all in Karakura, where I lived as well. Aizen was sensible. He hadn't given me a mission that would be impossible to compleate.

The buzzing of my phone sitting on the edge of my desk brought me back. The number was one I didn't recognize but could have sworn I had seen recently.

"Hello."

"Uh…hey. Hope you don't think I'm stalking you or anything…" Ichigo's voice came from the other end of the line.

"Hello Kurosaki," I cut through his babbling.

"Hey, call me Ichigo."

"Is there anything you wanted?" I felt a tiny twinge of regret for not having any time for him, but it couldn't be helped.

"Oh, yeah. Um, I told my dad about your idea, and he seemed all for it. He wants to meet you, though, to, um… to talk things over."

"Yes," I urged him on when he paused.

"So, do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow? I mean, just to discuss… um, things with my dad?" he managed to mumble out.

"Of course. What time?" There was no way I wasn't going to regret saying that.

***

After two hours of sleep, it was time to go. Usually I wouldn't set out until after dark, but the addition of the dinner to my plans meant that I'd have to do it in the day. Her office wasn't open on Wednesday, so she should be at home. She was young, too, and in all likelyhood inexperienced. This would be quick, and I'd be done in time to go to the Kurosaki's at seven.

The house was easy to find and completely unprotected. Somewhere nearby a dog barked and a cricket chirped although it was day, making the otherwise silent place feel abandoned. There was no intercom, so I merely ascended three flights of steps to her floor and found appartment 366, hers. Standing squarely before the door, I knocked. The girl looked younger than I expected and shocked to see me.

"Ul-ulquiorra Aizen," she stuttered, murky-brown eyes wide with shock or fear. Nearly all of them had that look on their face once they figured out who I was, though I had to admit she was quicker than most.

"May I come in?" She staggered back a step and I took that as a yes, walking in and closing the door for her.

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?" she asked, cowering before me. Something didn't fit. She was a frightened mess; not really what I expected of a member of our rival assassins.

"Soul Society trash." Her eyes got even bigger, tears threatening to spill out. Why was Aizen asking me to dispatch this girl who couldn't even hold herself together?

"It's because of your brother, isn't it? Well I didn't kill him, it wasn't me! It was Kuchiki who killed him, I swear. I'm not good enough, I just joined a year ago!"

Sigh. She wasn't even fun, just trash that would have others take the fall. The only thing that would come of killing her would be the start of an assassin's war. What was Aizen thinking-- she wasn't worth a war. Unless… this was what he wanted.

"Please, I didn't do it! It was her, Kuchiki, she killed him. Kill her, not me, I'll tell you where she lives!" How noble. Calmly I took another step forward and she stumbled, falling backwards to the floor though her eyes never left mine. Stooping over her, I pulled my gun from a pocket and held it to her head.

"Please, I didn't kill him, get your revenge on Kuchiki!"

"No," I said, finger on the trigger. "This was just an order."

With a simple twitch of my finger, she was gone.

Blood pooled around her head, but I had no time to watch it do so. A quick glance at her wall clock told me I still had enough time to investigate a bit. Though the building was run-down and stank of cat pee, he apartment was clean and generally well-kept. On a desk sitting in the living room was a framed picture of Saito with three others, all roughly my age. To her left was a man with long, vibrantly red hair that was tied up in a pony tail and tattoos starting on his face and trailing down under his shirt. A young woman with violet eyes and black hair stood to the girl's right, arm draped around her shoulders. The final occupant of the frame was a younger looking boy in doctor's scrubs standing near the back and smiling shyly. Interested, I slipped the picture from its frame and read the names scrawled on the back._ Renji Abarai, Rukia Kuchiki, and_ _Hanatarō Yamada _it said in barely legible cursive. Kuchiki… that was who she said killed Aaroniero. Some friend she was. I wondered if all of those people were part of the Soul Society as I tucked it into my coat pocket. Aizen would want to see that.

The rest of the apartment held little else of interest, so I moved on to the computer. It would take ages to sift through all of the files and old emails, so instead I plugged in an external hard drive and started the process of clearing all of her information onto the device. Did Aizen really want to start a war with the Soul Society? I knew little about them, but any sort of war was generally a bad idea unless you were certain you could win. He must be, then, because Aizen would never do anything that could put his wealth in jeopardy.

Once the information was done transferring, I wiped the apartment clean of my fingerprints without clearing off too many of hers. Now it simply looked like a murder with no evidence, just as all of mine were. But the Soul Society would know who had done it. And they would retaliate.

Finally I stepped over her body, pausing a moment to look at my latest victim, just a pawn in the game my "father" played so ruthlessly. Those previously fear-filled eyes were now dull, tears still wet on her cheeks. Placing a finger on each eyelid I closed her eyes, laying her to rest. Farewell to a fellow pawn, though hopefully I would go out with a little more dignity than her.

***

The Kurosaki Clinic was small and unassuming, nestled between two other buildings in the mid-district of Karakura Town. It looked nice enough, and clean, which was a plus considering they cured the sick there. Above it, two curtained windows glowed with light from the inside-- that must be where the family lived. I took note of everything I saw as I parked and walked up to the glass doors, gauging my investment. By the doors, a sign read "Kurosaki Medical Clinic" in bold black lettering.

As soon as I entered, a tall man with stubble on his chin and hair as black as mine immediately assaulted me, shaking my hand vigorously.

"Mr. Aizen, so nice to meet you! Thank you so much for coming to our humble home/clinic! Please come in--oh wait, you're already in!"

"Dad, let him breath," Ichigo instructed his father, prying him from me as he scowled. The familiar scowl was replaced with a smirk when he turned to me. "I see you managed not to get hit by any cars on your way over."

"I see your ego has gotten even bigger," I quipped back, unable to help myself. Isshin Kurosaki was watching us fling insults at each other with mouth open.

"Son, I'm so ashamed that you would harass the Great Mr. Aizen!" he interjected loudly, rushing between us. Ichigo stopped him with a hand held out, not even looking at him.

"Guys, quit fighting, Please. We have company," a tiny voice squeaked from somewhere behind them. Ichigo's cinnamon eyes softened as he turned towards a young girl with light brown hair who was wearing a white apron over her dress.

"Sorry, Yuzu, I didn't mean to bother you. Is dinner ready?" he asked in a voice so caring and gentle that I almost didn't recognize it. The girl nodded meekly as she gazed up at me.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Aizen. Thank you for considering us," she said earnestly. I simply nodded in response at the hopeful little thing. She looked nothing like Ichigo, really, but there was something about her that reminded me of him.

Just then a little boy bounded down the stairs and stomped into our mitst, the only one who seemed to care not at all that I was there.

"Hey, when are we eating?" a little girl's voice issued from the child and I realized that it was, in fact, a girl.

"Oh Great Mr. Aizen, this is my family. Ichigo, who you have already met, and my two adorable little girls, Karin and Yuzu," Isshin introduced his brood. No wife--perhaps due to one of those ever-common divorces. Not having a mother myself, it didn't really strike me as odd at the time.

Another nod served as my greeting to all of them. After the introductions, Yuzu herded us into the dining room and we sat, Ichigo on one side of me and Isshin on the other. The boyish girl sat opposite me, glaring. Her scowl, so much like her older brother's, was in place, growing as an awkward silence lengthened.

"So Ulquiorra, what do you think of the place?" Ichigo asked, voice teasing in its mock civility, begging me to insult him.

"It looks more like a house than a hospital so far. I'd like to see the rest," I answered, tone matching his. Karin eyed us suspiciously as her father rose to help Yuzu in the kitchen, excusing himself as flamboyantly as possible.

"Is this guy your boyfriend, Ich?" she asked gruffly after a moment. For just a split second his eyes went wide with shock, then he settled on a scowl even more feirce than usual.

"No, Karin. Shut up." Hmm… so it wasn't unusual for him to have boyfriend. This piece of information was stored away for later inspection, though, because at this moment Isshin and Yuzu entered holding dishes.

"I'm sorry our offering is so humble, Great Aizen, but it's all we've got," Isshin cried, bowing low and nearly spilling the dish of curry he was holding. Karin and Ichigo rolled their eyes at him while Yuzu giggled, setting her dish down and taking his from him. Soon we were all eating the child's delicious cooking, noodles and vegetable curry.

"Now I know that we're not exactly a money spinner, but we help a ton of people. It's just that, some of them can't always pay me right away--" Isshin launched into his spiel as soon as there was a pause in our eating. Not in the mood to listen to any more begging today, I held up a hand and he fell silent.

"You don't need to appeal to me, Kurosaki. Your son saved my life, so my support is yours." Ichigo smirked smugly at his father where he sat at the head of the table, gaping at me. "I simply would like to see where that support is going."

Isshin bowed deeply, nearly sticking his nose into his plate. Finally the evening could progress normally, without anyone stepping all over themselves to impress me. I got enough of that from the servants at home or really anyone who found out I had money to my name.

"Thank you so much Mr. Aizen. Our patients will be so grateful," Isshin said with one final bow.

"God, Dad, I think he made it pretty clear he's gonna help us. You don't have to go peeing all over yourself," Ichigo interjected, slurping up his noodles. I gave a nod to him and he smirked back, Karin watching us grumpily all the while.

After dinner I was shown the rooms at the back of the house on the first floor, most of which were examination rooms with a few being for overnight recouperation. All was clean and up-to-date, if not a bit shabby. Isshin seemed extremely proud of it, at least, and a competent doctor. I had no doubt that this was a good place to put my money. For all the lives I took, I might as well do something to save a few.

Author's Note: Hope you all enjoyed this second chapter. I'm pretty sure where I'm going with this, but any ideas you may have, please share! I'd love to hear them.


	3. Give

Just a Number

A month went by, stagnantly calm. No new assignments, no movement from the Soul Society, nothing. Aizen hadn't even asked about the Saito girl, only nodding when I told him the job was done and glancing at the photograph when I offered it to him. Both the picture and backup of her hard drive he took and stowed away, saying that they may be important later then dismissing me. I hadn't seen him since then, but I couldn't complain. Time away from my "father" was time well spent.

Ichigo Kurosaki, however, had somehow managed to worm his way into my life. At first claiming to simply want to keep in touch with his investor then deciding that his father should become my primary caretaker, he seemed to find a reason to call me at least twice a week. Since I had nothing to do anyway I really didn't mind; besides, I hadn't had any human contact that lived to tell of it outside of my family in ages.

"Oh yeah, I know it happened ages ago, I've been meaning to ask, but how'd your brother's funeral go? You pull it off?" Ichigo asked as we sat in one of the examination rooms at the back of his house. Hopefully I'd be getting my cast off today, which would be a relief, and not just because it was bulky and obnoxious. The second week I'd had it Ichigo had found a way to write all over it when I wasn't paying attention. "I heart chibi bunnies" wasn't exactly something I wanted displayed to the world everywhere I went.

"Fine. Several of Aizen's business associates were there, so he made a great show of it," I told him as we waited for his father to return with the x-rays and say if I could have the thing off. Ichigo shook his head.

"You know, I'm beginning to understand why you hate him so much. Turning his own son's funeral into a business affair, the bastard."

"Son, you shouldn't go around calling great men bastards," Isshin said as he bustled in holding x-rays of my arm. "Looks like rain out there. I hope you're out here before the storm hits or you may be spending some quality time with the Kurosakis that you weren't planning to." That said, he shoved the x-rays onto the shadowbox mounted to the wall for that purpose. The bones had clearly taken a lot of damage in the past, though all of the cracks and fractures were healed.

"I don't know how a business man managed to beat himself up so bad, but your most recent injury appears to be healed. I can take off the cast today!" Luckily Isshin had dropped the "Great Mr. Aizen" thing by my second visit. Now he was much more relaxed around me, as were all of Ichigo's family, though Karin tended to glare whenever she thought I wasn't looking.

"Good," I said, hoping to be done before it started to rain. Not that I didn't like the family, but if it turned out to be a monsoon, I could be stuck there for days.

"Will you show me where the break was?" Ichigo piped up from behind his father.

"Oh, sure." Over his father's head I glared at him and he grinned back before turning his attention to the x-rays as his father pointed to a kink in the bone.

"Really? But don't those types of breaks usually take six weeks to heal?" he asked, expression rapt with interest. Outside, thunder boomed.

"Well, yes, but this was closer to a crack than a fracture. It's called a greenstick fracture and it occurs when the bone cracks but doesn't break all the way through."

"Uh-huh, and why do they call it greenstick?" Now Ichigo was struggling to hold back his grin, even in front of his father.

"That's actually pretty interesting. It's because just like when you try to break a green stick, it's a bit flexible and--" The rest of his sentence was cut off by a loud clap of thunder.

"That's really great, Dad, but I think you should take Ulquiorra's cast off now," Ichigo reminded him, cocky smirk in place. Rain could be heard pouring down outside, and I'd surely be stuck there, at least for a few hours. His work was done.

"Oh, right." Finally he ducked into a cabinet to grab the cast saw. "Now this may be a little hot and will make quite a bit of noise, but it shouldn't hurt."

He was right--the saw was surprisingly noisy for its small size and the friction it produced made my arm quite warm, but it wasn't too unpleasant or painful. In contrast to his previous "fascination," Ichigo seemed uninterested, almost bored, by the procedure. Being the son of a doctor and living in a clinic had probably given him the opportunity to see loads of casts removed, so this would be fairly routine to him.

As soon as the cast was off I flexed my arm, stiff from being in the same position for so long. Isshin led me to the sink and instructed me to wash up before leaving once again to dispose of the cast. Warm water splashed over my arm, sound of it blending with the rain outside as I scrubbed away four weeks of dead skin cells.

"Looks like you're stuck here until the storm passes," Ichigo said from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see him gazing out the window as water poured from the sky onto the pavement.

"You made sure of that." Turning off the water, I grabbed a towel and dried my arm off as he looked at me incredulously.

"I don't know what you mean. I was merely interested in greenslick--"

"Greenstick."

"Right, that," he said innocently. "Anyway, since you're not just here for a doctor's visit this time, you can come up to my room while we wait it out."

"Wrong. I was here for a doctor's visit," I corrected him.

"Not any more. Unless you want to spend hours in here…" He cast a pointed glance around the tiny white room, outfitted with a cabinet, sink, table, and chair. He had a point.

"Fine. Lead the way."

"Let me just make sure you're alright with Dad first." I followed him out into the hall where his father was speaking with an old woman bundled up in dirty cloths.

"Of course you can stay here until the storm passes!" he exclaimed, causing the frail old thing to jump a bit in surprise. "You too, Mr. Aizen! Everyone can stay!"

"Dad, there's just two of them," Ichigo pointed out, sobering up the older man a bit. "Anyway, you done with Ulquiorra?" His father nodded then turned his attention back to the woman, leading her to an overnight room as he bemoaned loudly that his only son didn't love him.

Ichigo led me up the stairs two at a time. At the top of the stairs was a hall, presumably where all of their rooms were. Ichigo's was the first on the left, and he let me in without any of the pomp I'm sure his father would have shown. The room itself was fairly plain; just a bed, desk, window and closet. It was spotlessly clean, almost unrealistically so, making me wonder how much time he spent there.

"You like it?" Ichigo asked, confidence failing for the first time since I had met him. I gave a nod, but something caught my eye that stopped me dead. Quickly I strode over to his desk and picked up a picture of him and an alarmingly familiar girl with black hair and violet eyes.

"Who is this girl?" I asked, showing him the photo. He rubbed the back of his head, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Rukia Kuchiki," he answered, not looking at it.

"How do you know her?" I pushed further, praying he had a good reason. If he was Soul Society… I didn't think I could bring myself to kill him.

"She's an old family friend. My father took care of her parents before they died." That sounded plausible. "And she's also an ex of mine. She uh… wasn't really my type, but we're still friends." Yuzu's question from the fist night floated up to the surface of my mind and I considered their implication for the first time.

"The other picture is also of an ex that I'm still on good terms with," he said, pointing to another picture sitting on his desk. "Uryū Ishida."

This one was of a much younger him, perhaps 18, with another teenage boy who had a scowl that could rival even his own. So my suspicions were correct, and all that banter between him and I could be considered, dare I think it, flirting?

"Do you keep pictures of all of your ex's on your desk?" He blushed just a bit and rubbed the back of his head again, something that seemed to be a bit of a habit of his whenever he was uncomfortable.

"No, just those two. We were all friends in high school, so we managed to survive the breakups."

"Hmm," I said as I crossed his room and sat on his bed, looking out the window at the storm. It was showing no signs of letting up, and since it was already six, I would probably end up spending the night. Ichigo sat in the chair at his desk, watching me as he scowled.

"Now that you know way too much about me, I'd like to know something about you." His expression wasn't too inviting, but he seemed honestly curious. Back when he was giving me a ride home from the hospital he had said he was interested in who he had saved and I believed him.

"What do you want to know? How many ex's faces I have framed on my desk?" He blushed just a bit but looked determined nonetheless.

"No. How about explaining why you live with your father."

"The same reason as you. We both made the fatal mistake of working for our parents." He nodded, accepting this answer.

"What is it that you do, other than rescue failing clinics, that is." This was a tricky question, and though I had an answer prepared for whenever I was asked, the fact that it was a lie always bothered me.

"I handle and draw up contracts for my father's business."

"Wonderfully vague and, unsurprisingly, sounds boring." Casually he pushed his chair away from the desk and swung his feet up on it. "Actually, not far from what I do here. File and fill out paperwork, that's it. Oh, and save the lives of millionaires so that they'll give us money." He smirked at me and I gazed emotionlessly back at him, but he was used to getting that response from me by now.

Silence fell for a moment as I took in the rest of his room from my perch sitting cross-legged on his bed. There was one more picture on his otherwise blank desk. It was of a woman with hair the color of Yuzu's and eyes just like Ichigo's. I had no doubt that this was their mother, but she looked so young in the picture, it was clearly not a recent one.

"That's your mother?" I asked, tone implying the question my words didn't-- what happened to her? Ichigo's face fell just a bit before turning into a fierce scowl.

"Yeah. She was murdered just after Yuzu and Karin were born. They never knew her." There was hurt reflected in his eyes, still there after so many years.

"Did they apprehend the culprit?"

"No. Bastard's probably still out there somewhere."

"I'm sorry." Truly I was. Though death was a routine part of my life, often inflicted by me, I knew what it was like to not have grown up with a mother.

"What about yours?" he asked, and I assumed he meant my mother.

"I don't have one." He scoffed.

"Everyone has a mother. Or did a stork drop you on your father's doorstep?"

"Aizen never told me of her, but I have nine other brothers and sisters, and more that have died. I doubt one woman produced all of us."

"So you're adopted?" I shrugged. That was probably true, especially since I looked nothing like Aizen and neither did any of my siblings. Even Starrk and his twin looked very different, though that was because they were fraternal.

"Want to see more pictures?" Again I shrugged, which he rightly interpreted as a yes, diving into his closet. I was actually a bit excited to see what a normal life looked like. Ichigo immerged with a large white photo album and walked with it over to the bed. It landed with a soft thud on the blankets when he dropped it and nudged me over so that we both were sitting side by side against the headboard. The leather binding crackled a bit as he opened the album; clearly it hadn't been touched in a long time.

"This is the family when Mom was pregnant with the twins," he said, pointing to the first picture. Ichigo looked somewhere between five and eight, it was hard to tell. Both his parents were smiling and waving from in front of some sort of nature scene, his mother's belly round with child. They seemed so happy and young, full of life as they stood on the cusp of their lives, ready to jump in and start a family.

"And that's the twins, still at the hospital." Two tiny, shriveled pink faces were the focus of this picture. It must have been taken just before their mother's death. Already it was clear that though they were twins, they would be very different.

The next few pictures were of Ichigo, Yuzu, and Karin together, then there was a jump forward in time by a few years. Probably because no one felt much like taking pictures of sad children missing their mother. Like me, the twins had never really known the woman who gave them life, but, unlike me, they had a father and brother who would care for them. There were no pictures of me as a child, no pictures of any of us. Aizen never cared enough to take them.

Somewhere around the end of the album we both fell asleep, him before me. For a while I sat, not wanting to move and wake him up. I stared at the page he had stopped on, his high school years. One in particular caught my attention, him surrounded by a group of people including Rukia Kuchiki and Uryū Ishida. There were also two other people; a large, darker boy and a girl with long orange hair a few shades darker than Ichigo's. They were all in their school uniforms sitting in what was clearly school grounds. That was the life I missed while Aizen was "home schooling" me, teaching me how to do his bidding.

The buzzing of my phone woke me up hours later. Someone had turned off the lights so the room was dark and the sound of rain was somehow amplified. I lifted my head from where it had fallen on Ichigo's shoulder and pulled my phone from my pocket, fully planning on ignoring the call and going back to sleep. Unfortunately the caller id read "Aizen," so I had to pick it up.

"Hello?" I answered in a whisper, hoping I wouldn't wake Ichigo up.

"Ulquiorra, the Soul Society has retaliated."

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry this one's a bit short, but I couldn't resist a dramatic ending. I might not update for a while, but I will do so eventually. Thanks so much for reading!


	4. Take

Just a Number

The storm was over the next morning; the rain had passed but its damage remained. Aizen had included no details in his phone call, only saying that Kaname Tosen, one of his primary business partners, was missing. While he couldn't be sure it was the Soul Society's work, it was probable. I had fallen back asleep after his call, but my dreams were full of shadows, haunting me.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Ichigo woke me up the next day. My head had found its way back onto his shoulder at some point, but he didn't seem to mind. Slowly I lifted it, wincing at the crick in my neck. He was smiling at me, sleep still clouding his eyes as I'm sure it was clouding mine. Suddenly Aizen's late-night phone call came back to me and I sat up, realizing I hadn't been home since yesterday.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking concerned as I hastily stuck my phone back in my pocket.

"I have to go."

"Why?"

"My father…" What could I tell him without giving anything away?

"You don't even like him. Stay here."

"It's not a matter of not liking him." I couldn't explain it, not even to myself. I couldn't explain why I was even having this discussion when I could have just walked out or why I wanted more than anything to stay.

"Then what's it a matter of? Not liking me?"

"Stop it." He was making my resolve crack, manipulating me in that way of his. I knew this, yet I stayed where I was, right where he wanted me.

"Because if you don't like me, maybe you should just go." Now he was just playing with me, a cat with a mouse. I was _never _the mouse.

"That's not true." A smirk played across his lips.

"Well then, stay here. It's only logical--"

"Stop making this difficult," I cut him off, though he had already won. I knew it and so did he. He had won a month ago.

"This is difficult for you?" he asked, pressing his advantage.

"No," I lied, though it was too late and he didn't believe me anyway and now he was awfully close. When had that happened?

"Really? Then why are you still here?" Now he was dangerously close. I could count each of his lovely, dark orange eyelashes. My mind clouded over, becoming completely useless to me.

"I…" For the first time in a long time, I was speechless. He stopped with his lips a hair's width away from mine, tempting me. This was wrong, I should leave now, back away, create a safety-bubble of distance between me and him, but I stayed frozen where I was.

"Come on…" he whispered, breath warm and moise against my skin.

Giving in, I closed the distance between us, lips locking with his. I was supposed to be on my way home now, answering to my father's every beck and call, but I was 26 and had never had a meaningful relationship, never broken a rule. Ichigo tangled his fingers in my black hair while I looped mine around his neck, connecting us. After a space of time that stretched into eternity, we broke apart, gasping for air.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?" he breathed, forehead pressed against mine and our noses touching.

"Hmm?" His eyes were such an interesting color of brown, one minute warm almond, the next dark chocolate.

"Since I first met you."

"But you don't even know me…" I was dangerous, too dangerous for him or for anyone, and he didn't even know it.

"I want to," he murmured. Unfortunately he wasn't aloud, I wouldn't let him.

Pushing that problem to the back of my mind, I obliterated the distance between us again. This time we were a little more adventurous, his fingers coming down to explore my ears, then jaw, ending up flat against my chest. Though it was just about the last thing in the world I wanted to do, I broke the kiss, seeing where this was going and determined to stop it.

"I have to go," I repeated, pulling away before I lost my resolve again.

"Will I see you again?"

"Yes," I said as I stood, trying to walk to the door, but he caught my wrist. There was a needy look in his eyes that I never expected to see there when I turned back to him, pointedly glaring at where he clung to me.

"When?" Probably not for a while, since Aizen was likely to send me on a mission and I had no idea how long it would take, but he looked as though if I told him that it would break his heart. How could such a rough, brash man be so vulnerable now?

"I don't know," I managed, though I knew it was a lame answer. He nodded, and I hoped he understood that I really did want to see him soon. Impulsively I swooped down and gave him one last, chaste kiss on the cheek before pulling my wrist out of his grasp and leaving.

"Goodbye," I heard him call softly, almost to himself, as I slipped from his room. It appeared to be quite early judging from the weak light filtering in through the windows and the still calm that filled the house. As quietly as possible I descended the stairs and exited through the glass double doors, thankfully running into no one.

On the ride home my head was full of thoughts clashing and swirling together until I was so confused I couldn't think. There was only one thing I could do--organize. Kaname Tosen was strongly linked to Aizen and his business. Many of the lives I took I knew were taken on his request, and in return he was a partner to my father. This was a distinct advantage for Aizen because Tosen was the CEO of a large and influential company, so he invested in it and prospered. Though my father had many "alliances" with various businessmen, Tosen was one of the two closest and definitely the most powerful, so capturing him would be a clear choice for the Soul Society.

Where could he be? In truth I had no idea and knew very little about the Soul Society. Obviously they were against us, but it seemed unlikely that it had been created purely to fight the Aizens. More likely we were just their most recent enemy. Now they had killed one of our number and taken our greatest ally, and we appeared to be at war with them.

But there was a far more complicated and difficult issue weighing on my mind than an assassin's war--Ichigo Kurosaki, the boy who had dived headlong into my life a month ago and put down roots. To be honest, I had no idea how I felt about him, and I wasn't exactly used to examining my feelings. Yet that kiss, and being close to him… I had kissed other men before, and even a few women, but I had never felt anything like what Ichigo did to me. My stomach turned upside down and my heart raced when we touched as though we were in some cheesy romance novel.

But this couldn't happen, I couldn't let it start. It was a bad idea for any of Aizen's children to become involved with anyone, due mostly to the fact that one or the other usually ended up dead. Yet I had promised to see him again, and, for some unknowable reason, regardless to what I knew I should do, I intended on it.

The mansion loomed into sight through the early-morning haze, slapping reality in my face. This was where I spent the night, alone in my room, not at some clinic midtown with an orange-haired boy. Punching the numbers of the password into the keypad, I thought of when Ichigo had driven me home. He had been so embarrassed to find me in his lap, yet just less than an hour ago he was throwing himself at me. Not that he needed to, really; he had me from hello, as they say in the movies. I gave my head a tiny shake, wondering what had gotten into me. _He_ had, of course.

As soon as I had parked and gotten out of the car Gin was upon me. Other than Tosen, he was the most loyal partner my father had. Half the time he lived at the mansion with us, ever kissing the hem of Aizen's robe.

"Where were you? Survived the storm, I see." Gin's face was stretched into that grotesque grin that I'm sure my "brother" Nnoitora picked up from him.

"I was stuck at the clinic," I told him emotionlessly. He grinned even more widely, eyes crescent moons.

"Ah, your little pet project! Did you spend some time with your little pet?" Did he mean Ichigo? Aizen had told Gin and others the secrets he knew or suspected about his children before. I wouldn't be surprised if he had told his lackeys all he knew about Kurosaki.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I see no 'pet,' therefore it must not exist."

"Ha, ha! More Ulquiorra-isms!" he exclaimed, apparently in delight. "Come, come, now, my darling little philosopher, your father is waiting!" With a sigh I followed him diligently. I had hoped for some time to take a shower before seeing Aizen-- the fact that I smelt like Ichigo and his house was making it very difficult to not think about him.

Quietly Gin knocked on the door to Aizen's office, bowing his head respectfully as he entered. Aizen was seated at his desk dressed in white, as usual, writing something. Gin knelt by his desk, below him but still in a good position to speak to him, disgustingly subservient.

"Gin, leave us," Aizen commanded, causing Gin to swiftly rise then bow and scamper away, shooting that repulsive grin at me as he left. Aizen put down his work and looked at me for once. Usually he wouldn't even glance up, so this must be important.

"I would like to speak to you about Ichigo Kurosaki," he began, startling me. Since when did the world revolve around Kurosaki and how did everyone know it?

"Yes?" I replied, remaining impassive.

"When he took you to the hospital, he gave your name as Ulquiorra Aizen, did he not?" I nodded, not really seeing where he was going with this. My name _was_ Ulquiorra Aizen. "How did he know that was your name? On paper, legally your name is Ulquiorra Schiffer. On your license and passport and all other documents you may have had on your person, your surname was Schiffer. So did you tell him it was Aizen?"

For a moment I shifted back in time, to the day I met him. I had been unconscious when he brought me in; there was no way I could have told him anything. And what Aizen had said was true--on paper, my last name was Schiffer so that if I was discovered by the police, the Aizen family would not be connected to any of my crimes. _I knew who you were_, he had said. Almost imperceptibly I shook my head, but Aizen caught it.

"Ulquiorra, I know you are fond of the boy, but we have reason to believe he is Soul Society. He has deep family connections with the Kuchikis, a name that is practically synonymous with the Soul Society. That's why I cut off his father's clinic, and that's probably why he was on the street the day you met him--either to stop or kill you."

"Then why did he save me?" I didn't want to believe it. He couldn't be Soul Society. Rukia Kuchiki was a childhood friend, that's how he knew her, not through the Soul Society. It occurred to me that both could be true, but I had already rejected logic.

"That I don't know. But the point is that he now has a connection with you that could prove to be very dangerous. You could, of course, break all ties with the boy, but I would like you to stay close to him. Keep an eye on him for me; this connection could be just as useful to us as it is dangerous." He paused, chuckling to himself a bit. "I would tell you not to get emotionally involved, but with you, I know I don't need to worry."

"Yes Father. I will keep in contact with the Kurosaki boy and keep my emotions out of it."

"Very good. Now there is one other matter I would like you to take care of for me. As you know, I'm beginning the second generation--my grandchildren, if you will." I did know. Within the past ten years he had slowly been adopting a fresh round of children just as he had with us. Currently there were only three, so I had known for years that my replacement would be the next one acquired.

"I have found a suitable child for you. It will be adopted in your name and will, in essence, be your child, though you won't have to raise it, of course. Just teach it once it's old enough how to be an Aizen, but we don't need to worry about that now. The child hasn't even been born yet, so I would like you to meet the mother so she can approve of you. I want _this _child, Ulquiorra, so don't scare the woman away please," he said sternly. I would have been insulted if it hadn't been true. I _was_ scary.

"Yes Father." Silently he handed me a piece of paper with the woman's name and phone number. The name caught my attention, Kaida Saito, but Saito was as common a last name here as Smith was in America. I took this as Aizen's way of dismissing me, so I rose and had made it half-way to the door before he stopped me.

"Ulquiorra." I paused, turning to face him. "I expect that by the time you're done speaking to the girl, you'll know where Tosen is."

Ah, so there it was, the hidden agenda. Of course I had know there would be one; there always was one somewhere, no matter who you were talking to. So it seemed that Kaida Saito did have some connection to Asami Saito, and I was to use that to my advantage. This was why he wanted the child; to get closer to the mother. Killing two birds with one stone--how like him.

Quietly I left, but it wasn't the girl I was thinking of anymore. In fact, as soon as I left Aizen's office I virtually forgot about anything he had said except for the bits pertaining to a certain orange-haired boy who I wouldn't, couldn't believe was my enemy. Even if he was part of the Soul Society, why hadn't he killed me while I was at his mercy countless times? I should have been more careful, true, but he had given me no reason not to trust him. Aizen had been wrong before, and I was determined that he was wrong again this time. Ichigo wasn't Soul Society, no way.

_But_, I reminded myself, _it doesn't matter anyway. He means nothing to me._ Yes, I had promised to see him again, but I would do it only because Aizen had ordered it. My attachment to him was fleeting and brought about in a moment of weakness. By the time I had made it to my room, I had convinced myself that he was not affiliated with the Soul Society at all and I felt nothing for him. Oh, how delusional I was.

***

The café I had arranged to meet Kaida Saito in was bright and full of people, smells, and sounds, all typical of what you'd expect from a café in uptown Karakura. I had called and arranged this meeting the day Aizen had given me the assignment, but she hadn't been ably to meet me for a few days until the weekend. The girl was so young she was still in high school, which was likely the reason she had decided to give up her child in the first place.

The table I had chosen was at the back of the café against a wall; the habit of watching my back and preferring to have it up against a wall had developed early on. From this place I had an excellent view of the door and watched as a girl no older than 16 hobbled in, heavy with child. She wore a red bow in her black bob haircut and had kind, open features. My first, rather childish thought was that she looked like a hugely pregnant version of Snow White.

"Ulquiorra Schiffer!" she exclaimed with a huge smile and her hand stuck out in front of her. I stood as she approached, hand still stuck ridiculously in front of her. Presumably she had recognized me from the description I had given her over the phone, but I amused myself for a moment imagining my reaction had she been mistaken as to who I was. "I'm Kaida Saito, your future baby-mama!"

Gingerly I took her hand and gave it a light shake which she returned vigorously. Hopefully the child would be less loud than this woman. Calmly I waited for her to plop down in her seat before I settled in my own, gazing at her as she was me. Though it was clear she was sizing me up (her eyes lingered on the teal tear-tracks making their way down my face) her smile never faltered.

"So, when's your wife getting here?" she asked pleasantly after a moment once it became obvious I was there alone.

"I have no wife."

"Oh… so you're going to raise her all alone?" Suddenly she looked heartbroken, seemingly permanent smile gone. Just as I was about to answer in the affirmative, my phone rang, caller ID reading "Kurosaki Ichigo." Immediately I worried, having not spoken to him since our early-morning tryst three days ago.

"Excuse me," I said politely, turning away from Saito. Her eyes were full of tears as she nodded, muttering something about how she really was fine, it was just the pregnancy hormones taking over her tear ducts.

"Yes?"

"Get your ass over here!" he exclaimed so loudly I winced.

"Why?" I asked delicately, holding the phone an inch away from my ear.

"'Cause I haven't seen you in three days."

"That's not a good reason. Ichigo, I'm busy now," I said, glancing at Saito who was obviously eavesdropping.

"Oh, yeah, of course you are," he retorted sarcastically. "You promised to see me again, and I didn't take you for the kinda bastard who goes back on his promises. You can't just pretend I don't exist."

"I can't see you right now, and what I cannot see doesn't exist."

"'I think, therefore I am,'" he recited cheekily.

"Finally you say something intelligent and it's not even original." Saito cleared her throat, "subtly" reminding me she was there. Sighing, I cut through Ichigo's response that I'm sure was oh-so-witty and gave him what he wanted, remembering what Aizen's instructions. "I'll be at your house at seven."

"What? You change your mind a lot, you know, Grumpy."

"Hn." Swiftly I snapped my phone shut, effectively ending the call as I turned back to Saito. A grin adorned her face now, not the goofy one from before, but one that was much more sly.

"Who was that?" she asked, and I had to remind myself not to snap at her that it was none of her business. I was supposed to be making her like me, not scaring her away.

"No one," I replied as politely as I could. One of her eyebrows rose.

"Oh?" she questioned, attempting to look innocent. "You know, I'm very _open__minded_." More of her award-winning subtleties. "You don't have to feel like you need to lie to me, if there's something you want to say…"

"Fine," I conceded, still attempting to be nice. "I was speaking with Ichigo Kurosaki, a friend of mine." To this she blatantly rolled her eyes, abandoning dropping hints and taking a more direct approach.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"Not exactly."

"More than just a boyfriend?" I remained silent, trying to decide whatever it was she wanted to hear so I could say it. "As I said before, I'm pretty open-minded. In fact, I think it'd be kind-of cool if you and your husband raised her…"

"He's not my husband," I said before I could remind myself not to.

"Oh, I know, you're not allowed to get married here in Japan, and don't worry, I won't tell anyone. But you know what I mean." Oh no. She seemed to have decided that Ichigo and I were married, and I had to agree to whatever she said, not only to procure the child but also to learn of Tosen's whereabouts. Sigh.

"Yes," I sighed, then winced at her squeal.

"Oh, this is so exciting! I wish you would have brought him, though," she pouted. "But next time you will, right, now that you know I don't mind?"

"Next time?"

"Of course! I want both you and Ichigo to be as involved as possible in this whole process!" _Anything to appease her and, in turn, my father_, I reminded myself. Sigh again.

"Naturally. But, if you don't mind my asking, I've been wondering since I saw your name--are you related to Asami Saito? I used to know her." The hesitancy, the innocence; it was all carefully executed and one of my specialties. I really should have gone into acting. Apparently it worked (as always) because her big brown eyes suddenly misted over.

"My sister," she managed, holding back a fresh wave of pregnancy-induced hormones. "She died about a month ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that!" I exclaimed, reaching out a hand to console her. She patted it absently as she wiped her tears away with her other hand.

"I'm sorry about crying and all, it's just the pregnancy, and… well, we weren't that close… There was so much I didn't say before--" she squeaked out.

"I'm sure she knew you loved her. She was very kind." In any other context, those words would never pass my lips, but this was just a job, something I had to do.

"Yeah. You're right, I'm sure." She looked up, tears (for the moment) stopped. "You say you knew her?"

"It was a long time ago. I worked at the same office as her, and we had lunch together a few times. But towards the end of my time there she was always slipping off with some strange new friends, a boy with red hair and a girl--"

"With violet eyes, yes, I saw them. I don't know who they were, but I know what you're talking about. What was up with that?" I shook my head sadly.

"I just wish I knew who those people were or where to find them so I could talk to them about her; you know, see how they are." Her face brightened; she clearly hadn't thought of this before.

"You know, they used to go some place called Gotei 13. Asami would talk about it sometimes, though she never said where it was." Damn. So close, but that wouldn't help me at all. Just another name, another empty mystery.

"Well, it's too bad, anyway. She was a good person," I said, phrase "good person" bitter in my mouth. Saito nodded sagely, drifting off into her memories for a moment.

"Enough sad!" she said suddenly, snapping back to reality. "Let's talk happy. Tell me about Ichigo so I'll know what to expect when I meet him. I had no idea _you'd _be so…" She trailed off, her eyes roving over my black hair and teal tear-track ink stains. "Well, I was expecting some middle-aged looser in a sweater vest with a fussy lady just like my mom. But you're cool!" This caught me a bit off-guard. I was expecting her to say something sugar-coated like "different" or "unusual," not cool. A pregnant teenager thought I was cool.

"But anyway, tell me about your hubby. I want to know who's going to be raising my little girl," she said, voice full of meaning as she rubbed her swollen middle.

"You've decided already?" I asked, a bit surprised she had made the decision so quickly.

"Yeah, well, you seem like a really good guy and I like the idea of helping you two out. I mean, you guys probably get a lot of crap and…I just think you would love her and treat her well." Seeing her trusting face suddenly made me a bit sad. She had no idea how cruel the world could be.

"Thank you." She smiled gently, clearly relaxing after having made such a big choice. "You wanted to hear about Ichigo?" I schooled my thoughts as she nodded, shifting in her seat to get more comfortable. What was there to say about him? What wasn't there?

"Well, as far as physicality, the only thing that may shock you is his orange hair. It's nauseatingly bright. He's a doctor, and he works at his father's clinic finishing his internship and residency." That he hadn't told me. While I'd been researching the Kurosaki clinic I had discovered that Ichigo had sped through medical school, practically a prodigy. He was offered internships at excellent hospitals that would cement his reputation as an outstanding doctor, but he had turned all of them down to help his struggling father in a tiny clinic where he'd be no one forever.

"I can't wait to meet him! Say… next week? I have an ultrasound appointment, so you guys could see the baby. Oh, we could meet every week! What do you think of that?" Sounded like a living hell, but Aizen had given me orders. After a moment of hesitation I smiled, cheeks sore with the unfamiliar motion.

"Of course. You're giving us your child, it's the least we can do."

"Oh, I'm so excited! I can't wait to meet Ichigo and see you two together! You know, I've never met a couple like you, with a child and all. Have you picked out any names yet?"

It continued all afternoon, her babbling on while I attempted to pay attention. Fortunately she was nearly due, so there would only be a few more meetings before the baby was born. Hopefully Ichigo would help me with this. How was I going to ask him to be my pretend husband in order to trick a girl into giving me her baby? It would have to be handled delicately, and right away. Tonight, I would ask.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry for how rushed this chapter was, but you wouldn't believe the amount of editing that went into it, crappy though it was. Thank you for reading, and happy holidays!


	5. Lose

Just a Number

"So, just to recap--you want our relationship to be purely physical, no emotions involved, but you also want me to pretend to be your husband so you can adopt a baby? On a related note, why are you adopting a baby?"

That evening I had gone to the Kurosaki Clinic, as promised. The house was empty with Karin, Yuzu, and Isshin all gone out shopping, leaving us alone. Knowing Ichigo's father, he had probably done it on purpose in order to "help" his son with his "love life." As soon as we had settled sitting opposite each other on his bed, I had lain out my demands, and currently he was looking at me like I had lost my mind.

"My father's wishes,' I answered dully. If I had a minute alone for every time I said that…

"Okay… and why does your_ father _want you to adopt a kid?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"I don't ask, I simply do." He rolled his eyes at me, huffing.

"Che, that's a terrible reason. My old man is crazy, but at least he doesn't go around adopting kids for no reason."

"I must do as he says. And besides, if we don't get this one, he'll just choose another. The only difference will be that the girl will be disappointed we lied to her," I said, shrugging. This mattered very little to me, but I knew that Little Hero Ichigo would never let that happen.

"The girl?" So predictable.

"Yes. She was very excited to meet you and seemed to really want to give her child to a gay couple. The baby is a little girl." Got him, hook, line, and sinker.

"Okay, fine, I'll go meet her, but only because I don't want her to be disappointed," he sighed, then looked me dead in the eye, mouth set in its usual scowl. "But will you explain to me why don't you want a real relationship?"

"When there are emotions, things get messy, and I'd rather they not," I answered simply. My logic was straightforward; Aizen hadn't specifically said _not_ to kiss him, just not to get emotionally invoved. Hense, the purely physical relationship was perfect, if only I could get Ichigo to agree.

"Alright, I get that, but aren't I worth the risk?"

"Quit being cocky. I travel too much for it anyway." He rose an eyebrow, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"And let me guess, if I don't agree to this I don't get to see you at all. Supply and demand?" Well, I had to see him anyway because of Aizen's instructions, but he didn't need to know that. I gave a mysterious smile that he took as confirmation, closing his eyes for a moment while he thought it over.

"Alright, _fine_, I'll agree to that too, you manipulative bastard." Ha. I knew he would. Just to seal the deal I leaned forward and captured his lips with my own. He responded with the fiercness I'd expect from him, nipping at my lower lip.

"Manipulative bastard…" he repeated, lips still pressed against mine.

"You speak as though you have a problem with this, yet your actions prove otherwise," I murmured.

He merely chuckled as he trailed a line of kisses down my jaw, pausing to pay special attention to the nook behind my left ear where the jaw ended and the neck began. I was struggling to remain stoic, though Ichigo was not making it easy for me, his hands roaming up my chest under my shirt. Just as he was about to dispose of the garment all together, a loud "slam!" was heard from downstairs, effectively destroying the mood. Ichigo froze, then slowly disentangled himself from me.

"Damnit, they're home," he growled, running a hand through his hair.

"I think I'll take my leave," I said, moving to the door.

"Um… Every Wednesday after the clinic closes Dad takes Yuzu and Karin shopping for groceries. They go to the one across town, so they're gone fore a good two hours, I mean, if you wanted to…"

"Wednesday at seven it is, Kurosaki," I said, slipping from the room and to the stairs, passing Karin on the way down.

"What were you doing with my brother?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

"Nothing of your concern," I replied, brushing past her. She stood at the top of the stairs motionless, watching me with narrowed eyes until I rounded the corner. Fortunately Isshin and Yuzu were nowhere in sight, so my getaway was otherwise clean.

Less than an hour later I was home at the mansion, sitting in the library on the third floor. The building, unlike many in Japan, was not built with saving space in mind, so nearly the entire floor was dedicated to the expansive library; even with all the time I had spent there growing up, I had barely scratched the surface. Yammy, my youngest (yet most large) brother, sat beside me as I typed away on my laptop which I had plugged into our vast database, searching for any mention of Gotei 13.

"What's this place your looking for anyway, Ulqui?" he asked me, obnoxious as ever.

"I don't know, Yammy," I responded calmly. "That's the point," I added under my breath. He didn't notice, but, then again, he wouldn't notice if a rabid rhino trampled him. A puzeled expression crossed his features as he watched me sifting through the masses of useless information the database had spat out at me.

"Then how do you know what you're looking for?"

"I don't." That was perfectly true, though I hated to admit it. All I knew was that it was a place that a known member of the Soul Society had frequented only after she joined. I was fairly certain it had something to do with the Soul Society because Saito kept its exact nature a secret from her sister, but, essentialy, I was chasing ghosts.

"Your big brother does this all the time, Yammy. Don't concern yourself," a lazy voice drawled from behind me--Coyote Starrk, my eldest brother.

"How like you to recommend being unconcerned," I commented, keeping my foccus on the massive amount of data I had to sift through. The chair opposite Yammy creaked as he plopped down into it, probably planning on continuing his life-long nap.

"Hey, it's not my fault I'm able to just let it all go. You should relax more yourself, Little Brother."

"Hn." If they weren't going to be helpful, why were they even there?

"What are you looking for, anyway?" Starrk asked sleepily. Though unspeakably lazy, he at least offered input that was oftentimes helpful.

"Gotei 13."

"Never heard of it. What is it, a place?"

"I think so, yes," I said, quickly scanning an article about a bar called Seireitei burning down in a neighborhood called Rukongai. It seemed to have nothing to do with Gotei 13 at all, so I quickly sent it to the trash pile and continued the search.

"Why do you wanna find it so badly? Orders from Daddy dearest?" I nodded once, though that wasn't entirely the truth. Aizen had told me to figure out where Tosen was, not find Gotei 13, but it was the only lead I had.

"I think we all have the same orders right now; find Tosen, distroy Soul Society," Starrk commented, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. Yammy looked between the two of us, face annoyed.

"I don't have any orders from Aizen. Explain this to me, Ulquiorra!" he demanded.

"You really ought to work on your reasoning skills, Yammy, so I don't have to be constantly explaining things to you."

"That's what you always say!"

"Until you take my suggestion, I will continue to say it."

"Eh, whatever. Just tell me what you guys are talking about already!"

"One of Dad's associates, Tosen Kaname, has disappeared, nearly a week ago now, right Ulquiorra?" Starrk cut in, probably just to get rid of the noise. I nodded again, typing a few key words to try and narrow down my search.

"I knew that, I just didn't know we'd look for 'im," Yammy grunted defensively.

"Why wouldn't we?" Starrk asked, looking a bit confused.

"We just usually don't" That was true, but--

"Tosen's worth too much to just let go," Starrk said, then heaved himself to his feet. "You people aren't letting me get any sleep at all."

"Starrk," I stopped him as he left, inspired by sudden insight. "Who is looking over the files obtained from Saito Asami?"

"Szayel, of course. Who else…" he mumbled as he slunk off. After casting one last glance at the files the database had pulled up I snapped my laptop shut and pulled the database's connecter plug from it.

"Where're you going?" Yammy asked as I stood, tucking my computer under my arm.

"To see Szayel, unfortunately," I told him as I walked off. He seemed to think of following me then decided against it; apparently the unappeal of my eighth brother was enough to stop even Yammy from coming with me.

Szayel was well known in the family as easily the most flamboyant, with his pink hair and odd hobbies standing testement to that. But, while he was extravagant in his manorisms, he was exceptionally good at research and catalouging, so we could not do without him. Another, more personal reason I had for disliking him was that he was almost constantly with Nnoitra, my least favorite brother. Going to see one was the same as going to see the other, neither being pleasant visits.

"Ah, Ulquiorra, how fascinating that you're here," he greeted me after I had knocked on his door. "Do come in."

Grudgingly I stepped over the threshold, glancing around his darkened room that was always full of odd "experiments," many of which involving rats, my least favorite rodents. _Speaking of my least favorite rodent_, I thought bitterly as my eyes landed on Nnoitra, who was sitting on his bed. Curtly I nodded at him, hoping to be out of there as soon as possible.

"So what is the cause for this lovely surprise visit?" Szayel asked, pushing up his glasses.

"I would like to borrow the hard drive that I attained for you a month ago from Saito Asami." His smile drooped almost comicly to a frown; usually he would not relinquish his research materials.

"Oh, dear, I don't think that will be possible, Schiffer," he said, and I noted the change to my last name. "You see, I've started to go through it already, and I can't possably stop the process once it's begun…"

"What do you want, Szayel?" I asked, cutting to the chase. Where was his hidded agenda?

"Clever, clever, fourth brother," he cried, looking estatic to have learned something new about me. Undoubtedly he would file that bit of information away as soon as I had left. "How did you know?"

"A lesson _Father_ taught me early on."

"Well… what is something that only you have that I might want?" he asked, looking between Nnoitra and myself. When neither of us spoke up he huffed a dramatic sigh, dissapointment written all over his face. "Information, of course! In exchange for these files, I want the ones you have on that double murder you did a few months ago with the pistol. Fasinating case!"

"Fine." Really I wasn't supposed to give out any information about my jobs, but anything was better than what he asked for last time: "Hmm, let's see… tell me what it's like to be with a man! That's something I wouldn't know…" Yeah right. Nice pink hair, Aporro Granz.

In a second I had whipped out my laptop and put the report files on a disk he handed me. The exchange was over quickly, Szayel prancing away into the depths of his room with his prize as soon as I had given it to him. Completely ignoring Nnoitra, I went back to my room to start sorting through the late Saito's life, one file at a time. There had to be something about Gotei 13 there, or perhaps some sort of other clue as to where the Soul Society would hide a captive. Unfortunately that meant hours of reading and organizing, so much so that I would have been better off with the database.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter is so short, but I need to set some plotsy stuff in motion so the true action can begin. Anyway, thanks for reading and to anyone who's reviewed!


	6. Find

Author's Note: Yes, before the chapter this time...the reason i put this note before the chapter is to mention that if you're looking to read a lemon or any other type of citris, this is the wrong story for you. First off, I can barely read that sort of stuff, let alone write it. Also, I'm not all that good at it. But my main reason is that Ulquiorra is this story's narrator, and he just doesn't strike me as the type to kiss and tell... or in this case, kiss and go into loving detail about it. Just use your imagination, okay? Thanks!

* * *

Just a Number

The next day in its entirety was spent cooped up in my room, pouring over Saito's hard drive. Actually, it almost made me nostalgic to how my life was spent before I met Ichigo. Was it possible that I hadn't known him just a few weeks ago? Before I met him, all I ever did was work, striving to do as Aizen wanted. How hypocritical I was, scoffing at Gin for his slavishness while I did the same. I just wasn't quite so loud about it as him, but the truth remained that before Ichigo, I had never broken a rule.

_Focus_, I reminded myself countless times that day, _if you're not going to concentrate on finding Gotei 13, at least think of what you will say to the living Saito. _

Really there wasn't much I needed to say to her, as long as Ichigo played his part well. I was fairly certain he would, if for no other reason than his inherent good nature and charm. Of course, by charm I meant lack thereof, but his gentlemanly ways went a long way to making it seem as though he did. And all that was under my control; I was confidant of that.

But this issue of Tosen wasn't, not at all. No matter what approach I tried, I could find nothing, no mention at all, of Gotei 13 or any place else Tosen might be. I learned more about Saito Asami than I would ever want to know (she was a virgin, she was allergic to ham and all ham byproducts, her favorite animal was the housecat, when she was 12 she got mono…) yet there wasn't even the slightest mention of the Soul Society at all. They were too clever, too careful to allow any information to be out in the world unguarded, but then how did they communicate with each other?

Code. That sudden inspiration, the thought that it was all here before me but I couldn't understand it, drove me mad. It was entirely possible that I had read all I needed to know hours ago and had been wasting my time all day. I had to be calm about this to figure it out and not allow myself to become frustrated.

_Focus._

What had I read that could be taken any other way? All of it… Sighing, I began to sort through her recycling bin. Fortunately Szayel had managed to decode all her locks and somehow retrieve almost all she had deleted from her computer within the past twelve months, so nearly everything was accessible to me. I glanced at a folder labeled "aikur, locked." The lock was no problem, of course, but I wondered why she had deleted an entire file she had bothered to lock. And the file's name couldn't have been more transparent. Aikur was Rukia backwards, and she cared enough to lock it, so perhaps this was what I had been looking for all along.

The file was all old emails from about a year ago, when Saito Asami would have just joined the Soul Society, and all from the same sender: Sode no Shirayuki. I opened the oldest email, holding my breath for a fraction of a second as I read.

_Subject: welcome_

_Welcome, Saito, to the Vegetarians' Club! It's always a joy to discover one more person who is dedicated to preventing cruelty and the death of more creatures, and I can't wait to get to know you. To come and see us simply find a turquoise cab with out diamond symbol and ask the driver to dance. The statement "First dance, white moon" should be enough, but should he not understand, it is likely he's a meat eater and should not be trusted. I hope to see you soon, and remember, viva la verde!_

_-Sode no Shirayuki_

So... either the vegetarians of Japan were planning an uprising, or I had just found what I was looking for.

* * *

"Stop that, Kurosaki." It was bad enough that we were on the subway surrounded by trash, _literally, _without him nipping at my earlobe. Not that I didn't like it when he did said action, but we were in public, and half of the train car was already staring at us, one old woman unashamedly slack jawed.

"Why?" he whispered in my ear, working his way up to the tip as I suppressed a shudder.

"Because, if you have failed to notice, our lifestyle choice isn't exactly approved of by the general public." Finally he removed himself and looked with disinterest at the multitude of eyes turned to him.

"So? What's the fun of taking the train if we can't even fool around?"

"I was all for driving there," I reminded him, "but you insisted we take the subway."

"Only because we were running late and it's faster."

"By what evidence do you support that claim?" He huffed a sigh, scowl in place.

"Well it is. Not all of us can simply drive around, and we have to know these things," he argued.

I simply ignored him, remembering why we were running late. At 2:30 sharp I had arrived to pick him up for our 3:00 appointment with Saito, but he hadn't been ready yet. This much I had expected from him, but I hadn't particularly expected him to be so far behind in getting ready that he had only been wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, hair dripping wet. Unfortunately my desire to be punctual was won over by my hormones and I played a very instrumental part in delaying his getting dressed.

"Hey, Grumpy. This is our stop," he brought me back to Earth, pulling me up.

"Don't call me Grumpy," I snapped, following him off the train with the rest of the crowd getting off at our stop.

"What, you prefer King Grumpy?" he shot back, smirking then flinching a little. I quirked an eyebrow at his sheepish look. "Rukia would have slapped me for saying that," he explained.

"She sounds delightful." Ichigo's scowl returned.

"Hey! Whose side are you on?"

"Definitely not yours, Strawberry."

"Don't call me Strawberry!" I smirked a bit, looking up at the sign we were standing under.

"Here we are. Try and pretend you're civilized," I instructed him mildly as we walked inside.

"Che, I'd say the same to you."

Just then the incredibly pregnant teenager we were looking for hobbled up to us, going as fast as she possibly could. Again she wore the red bow in her hair and had her lips painted cherry red, a wide grin plastered across them.

"Ulquiorra, it's so good to see you again!" She grabbed me and pulled me into the most awkward hug of me life, bent at an odd angle due to her pregnant stomach. Ichigo's smug smirk quickly turned into an expression of shock as I forced a smile and hugged her back enthusiastically. As soon as she had removed herself from me her eyes rested upon Ichigo and let loose a scream of delight that earned us yet more odd looks from the other pregnant women in the room and their husbands.

"You must be Ichigo. You're absolutely perfect!" Oh great. Now the satisfied smirk was back.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Kaida. I can only hope the baby will be as lovely as you." Cheesy as it was, she seemed to like his little line. Eyes wide with excitement, she turned her attention back on me.

"How did you ever find such a lovely man?" she asked me. Keeping up my false smile, I looked into Ichigo's eyes, daring him to suggest I was ever anything but pleasant.

"Just lucky, I guess. He saved my life, you know." I smirked the tiniest bit as his eyes narrowed.

"Aw, you two are so sweet! I can't wait to complete your family."

"We can't thank you enough for that, Kaida," Ichigo said with surprising sincerity. Apparently I wasn't the only one who was good at acting.

"Saito Kaida," a secretary called, leading us through a door to the back once we had walked over to her. "While you're waiting, please lay down and pull your shirt up. The doctor will be with you soon," she instructed. Saito did as she was told in a practiced way; clearly she had done this many times before. Just as she was getting settled, a middle-aged woman walked in holding a clipboard.

"Hello, Ms. Saito. Who's this with you today?" she asked, looking between Ichigo and I with a hard look in her eyes.

"That's Ulquiorra and the one with orange hair is Ichigo. They're going to adopt my baby," she told the doctor a bit nervously. It was always hard to tell if we would be accepted or not and at this stage in the game it would be very tedious to find a new OB/GYN.

"It's very nice to meet you two," she said calmly as though we were nothing out of the ordinary. I could see Saito relax. "Now, are you ready to meet your baby?" Ichigo and I both nodded and she smiled gently, flicking the lights off and squirting some blue gel on Saito's protruding belly.

It was hard to say what I had been expecting, but this was not it. First all that could be heard was Saito's strong heartbeat, but after a second, it was joined by another, much more fragile one--the baby's. Suddenly an image flickered into life on the screen, a blurry black and white shape that gradually became a baby. It was so tiny, curled up there inside of her, eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched.

"She's so small," Ichigo whispered from beside me.

A look of wonder was playing across his face similar to what I was feeling. I looked at the screen in aw that another human could make something like that, something so perfect and untouched by pain or suffering. Suddenly I felt a surge of fierce protectiveness shoot through me; I didn't want Aizen to ever lay his hands on her, _my_ child. For just a second I forgot to be emotionally stunted as Ichigo took my hand in his and our eyes met for a moment before focusing on the doctor again as she told us about the delivery process and how the baby was doing.

"So there you have it," the doctor said before shutting of the ultrasound machine and flipping the lights back on. As soon as it had come the spell was broken and I remembered that in a "physical only" relationship people didn't hold hands or have ridiculous desires to raise a little girl with the other person. Apparently Ichigo was sternly reminding himself of the same things because he quickly let go of my hand and turned back to Saito, not looking at me.

"She's lovely," he said to Saito, who was looking overjoyed. For a moment he gazed sightlessly at her, still recovering from the moment shared between us before suddenly speaking up again. "Has anyone ever told you that you look like Snow White?"

* * *

"Hey, Mr. Grumpy, what's up? You've been a million miles away all afternoon," Ichigo asked, tapping on my head as we rode the train back to the clinic where I had left my car. After the doctor's appointment we had talked to the girl for a while, her taking to Ichigo like a flame to dry wood. Ichigo played his part well, if not a bit too well. He described in loving detail how we met, painting a romantic picture of a traditional festival at sunset. We had both reached for the same net at the goldfish scooping booth, our hands had met, it was love at first touch… it went on, sappy enough to make me gag.

Of course Saito had been hanging off of his every word, and I was glad that he had her occupied, however sickening his stories may have been. My mind was full of swirling thoughts, always ending up at the same place; I had finally found something I was bad at. As rare an occurrence as this was, it brought me no joy, because what I seemed unable to do would make things dreadfully complicated. I was bad at having a no-strings-attached relationship with that damn Ichigo Kurosaki; I had feelings for him.

"Haven't I asked you to not call me by that atrocious name?" I said calmly, forcing my feelings to the back of my mind, where they belonged. Problem was, that left room for Ichigo to be at the forefront.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You know, I wouldn't feel the need to call you that if you weren't always frowning."

"Look who's talking." This was normal, the bickering. This I could handle, and the rest I could ignore, shut away and pretend it didn't exist… for now.

"Hey, at least I know how to smile!" he exclaimed, his characteristic scowl in place. When he received no response from me he huffed moodily, crossing his arms and turning away from me. "You still gonna stay until seven?" Oh, yes, our previous arrangement. It was nearly six as it was, so I might as well just stay and wait.

"I don't see why not," I answered, gazing out the window as the city rushed by. We sat in silence the rest of the way back, which wasn't long. The one time I snuck a glance at Ichigo he was wearing a pensive expression, clearly totally lost in whatever he was thinking about. It was the first time I had seen him looking so introspective, and I had to admit it made me want to do some things to him that are definitely not appropriate to do while using public transportation.

Again when the train stopped he pulled me up, this time not letting go of my hand after I stood. We walked hand in hand out of the train station, neither of us talking or looking at each other. Clearly the afternoon had effected him too, and while I knew I should shrug him off and tell him that holding hands violated the rules of our agreement, I simply couldn't bring myself to do it. We were careful, however, to put some distance between each other as we approached the clinic; if Ichigo's father saw us like that, he would definitely never shut up about it again.

As soon as we got back Ichigo turned and walked through the doors to the dining room, through the kitchen, and straight to the living room, which I hadn't yet been in. Yuzu was sitting in the center of a small couch, staring at the television screen. Colors flashed on her face, reflecting off of the water on her cheeks. Ichigo immediately looked at the TV that was playing the news, a report that two young children had drowned in the river while swimming unattended earlier.

"Damnit, Yuzu, didn't we tell you not to watch the news?" he demanded, quickly turning it off and walking over to where she was sitting, a hand out to comfort her.

"WHO LET MY LITTLE BABY YUZU WATCH THE NEWS?!" Isshin charged into the room suddenly, Karin in tow. "Ichigo! It must have been you! You're a bad big brother!"

"What are you talking about, Old Man? I just got home!" he retorted, standing. "You're the one that was here."

"It's okay," Yuzu's shaky, tiny voice spoke up, silencing the men. "I just wanted to see the weather. It's my own fault." Instantly Ichigo was kneeling in front of her again, gently telling her that it was alright and it wasn't her fault at all. He was so caring yet so extreme, snapping from yelling at his father to soothing her in an instant. Soon all of her tears were dry and Ichigo stood, turning back to me.

"This happens every time she sees the news," he mumbled to me as we quickly left before Isshin could stop us. "She just cares so much."

"Your family is certainly strange," I observed, adding silently to myself, _but it's a family. _He merely shrugged, more interested in a bowl of strawberries still sitting on his desk from that morning. Casually he popped one in his mouth before flopping down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"So what do you want to do?" he asked. In an instant I had straddled him on the bed, smirking down at his surprised expression. I captured his lips with mine, sucking on his lower lip before delving deeper with my tongue. He tasted like strawberries.

"You."


	7. Up

Just a Number

A week passed.

Seven days of stolen moments and encounters both planned and otherwise, spending as much time as possible out of my house and Aizen's suffocating presence. I gave myself a week, some time off in which I allowed myself to forget that anything existed but sex and Ichigo Kurosaki, the very person who was making everything so difficult. He didn't seem to mind that my schedule suddenly revolved around him; then again, he didn't know that it was my way of saying goodbye.

I didn't want it to end, but I had to make a decision. Actually, the decision had been made for me ten years previously as I knelt on the floor of my father's office, trembling. That had been it, I could love no one else but my father, share my devotion with no one. I had known it all along, from the start. That's why it was no emotions attached, but it didn't matter anyway. I wouldn't have time to miss him.

Calmly I sat at my desk early in the morning, the day after my week was up. I was writing a letter to Ichigo so that he might understand, though I hated that it had to be in a letter. With the utmost care I signed and folded the thick cream paper, slipping it into an envelope I had already addressed. Finally I stood, taking a look around the small room that I had spent my life alone in, not sad at all to be leaving it behind.

As I walked down the hall to the front door, I heard a voice call out behind me, deep and gruff--Yammy.

"Where're ya going, Ulquiorra?" he asked, coming up to walk alongside me.

"Away, Yammy. You may not see me again for a while," I said without looking at him.

"Why not?" I could hear the hurt in his voice; he had always been fond of me for some unknowable reason.

"I have to go do something important."

"Oh…I can't come with you?"

"No. I have to do this alone." He looked as confused as usual, but let his expression clear, trusting me blindly that I knew what I was doing.

"Well, okay. See you tomorrow!" he said, apparently forgetting that I had said I may not see him for a while. I left him then, strolling with the casualness I forced on myself out the door and down the drive. I couldn't help but remember the night previous when another person had said that to me, as though it was a given that I'd always be there.

_Wednesday, the night when we had the Kurosaki Clinic all to ourselves. It was after, and we were both hot and sticky with sweat as we lay in bed, him holding me close against his chest. I could feel his hot breath against my neck as he hovered there for a moment before planting a gentle kiss and nuzzling in. _

"_I want to be with you all the time," he mumbled, kissing my neck again._

"_I know…" I breathed, not really meaning for him to hear, but he did. Squeezing me tighter to him, it was more like we were one being, we were so close together._

"_Why don't we…" he trailed off, afraid. I knew what he was going to ask, and he knew the answer--no. It couldn't happen, not ever, and he was well aware of that. But it was difficult, and getting harder every time we saw each other. This was the last time, though--I just couldn't let him know that._

_Suddenly he turned me around so that I was facing him, gazing into his lovely brown eyes. Before I could ask what he was doing, he had pressed his lips to mine in a kiss that started out gentle but quickly became… possessive. Roughly he rammed his tongue in my mouth, claiming me and daring anyone else to even try to go where he'd been. _

_Finally we separated for breath but I gave him no rest, lips traversing down his chest and the treasure-trove of sensitive spots I found there. Where I had kissed going down I licked on my return journey, earning a moan from my companion I was glad his family wasn't home to hear. Once I reached his collar-bone sucking joined my repertoire of techniques, leaving a reddish mark there that proved he was just as much mine as I was his. _

With a start I realized that my thoughts had carried me down the drive and to the street beyond. After quickly slipping Ichigo's letter into the mailbox, I carefully scanned the busy street in front of me. Cars sped by, painted red, grey, black, white, and even a few yellow, but no turquoise. Finally I spotted one, clearly a cab. On the bumper was a symbol that looked like an elongated diamond with all of the corners colored in. It pulled over as soon as I hailed it, driver's appearance catching me a bit off guard. He looked way too young to be driving, yet there he sat, scowling at me from beneath a shock of white hair.

Gingerly I slid into the back and looked him in the eye through the rear-view mirror. Not allowing myself to feel foolish, I opened my mouth and uttered the phrase I had been mulling over for the past week. "First dance, white moon." He rose a silver eyebrow then sighed, pulling away from the curb. I noticed him discreetly pulling out his cell phone and sending a message, then glancing at me again in the mirror.

The drive took us deeper into the slum, cab driver's icy blue eyes often flicking up to his mirror to look at me . For a while we drove in circles, clearly just wasting time, until finally his phone rang and he picked it up. Though he said nothing, apparently he heard what he needed to because he abruptly turned around, driving with purpose now. I had no doubt that he knew who I was and was weary of me, an Aizen who knew Soul Society code. Was he taking me to their headquarters, or somewhere more secret, a holding room?

After a few minutes we drove into a neighborhood called Rukongai then on to a street called Gotei. Gotei? The numbers of the addresses were painted in faded red lettering on the faces of the run-down buildings on either side of the street. Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen…There it was, base charred as though it had burned, big red numbers proclaiming it to me, screaming it--Gotei 13, what I had been looking for for weeks. It was the bar that I had read the article about and promptly disregarded, the one that had burned down and been rebuilt. Glancing at me once more, the silver-haired driver parked the car across the street from it.

"Stay where you are," he growled, voice as cold as his glare. I did as he said, waiting patiently as he came around the car and opened my door. Limp as a rag doll, I allowed him to cuff me and drag me roughly from the cab. Silently we marched across the street, him holding tightly to the cuffs that were digging into my wrists.

"It's Toshiro," he called once we had reached the door. He hadn't even knocked, just called out, assuming there would be someone to hear him. The door was promptly opened and I was shoved inside, barely keeping my footing. At least a dozen faces greeted me when I looked up, each one of them wide-eyed with wonder. The room itself did indeed look like a grubby bar, full of people wearing archaic black clothing with swords slung around their waists. To be honest, I felt like the sacrifice of some strange and ancient cult.

"Heh, that's a funny lookin' _rat_," one of the men spat. He was bald and leering at me, one arm slung around a masculine woman. Or was it a feminine man? "Wonder what its insides look like."

"Ikkaku," the man (the voice gave away his gender, but even that was questionable) warned, looking weary.

"Aw, common, Yumi! I'm itchin' for a fight, and here's one of those Aizen bastards, right here!" he exclaimed.

"You can't fight him here. It would be ugly," the feminine man, Yumi, declared matter-of-factly.

"Exactly," the bald one growled, his grin feral.

"Enough." Suddenly everyone fell silent, all heads turned to the new-comer. It was a petite girl with raven-black hair and big, violet eyes. Rukia Kuchiki. She strode forward, her presence huge though her body was tiny. Stopping directly in front of me, she pulled me down to her level and stared into my eyes. For one moment it seemed as though she was reading my very thoughts, then she released me and turned away.

"Take him to the prison at once and get Shunsui Kyoraku. Tell him we have caught Ulquiorra Aizen."

***

The room they were using as a prison was really more like a storage room, probably part of the original bar. It smelt like stale sake and smoke and was entirely wooden, including the walls. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling to illuminate the bare room; there was nothing there but a few crates and barrels. I guess I had sort-of expected to see Tosen, but if he was here, he was most likely in a more secure holding area. This was clearly just where they were keeping me until Shunsui Kyoraku came, whoever that was. Suddenly I heard a loud voice outside the door, laughing at something.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Sexual harassment…" A large man was saying as he entered, completely unconcerned that he was being so unguarded around his known enemy. He looked around the tiny room for a minute, smiling broadly once he spotted me sitting on a crate in the corner. He swept over to me, ridiculous pink kimono swishing as he came. Under it he was wearing the same odd black robes that every one else here was wearing, and in one hand he held a bottle of sake and two dishes.

"Hey there," he greeted me, pulling up a box between us to serve as a table then plopping down on another crate. Casually he set down the bowls and filled them with sake, pushing one towards me before taking a sip of his own. "I'm Shunsui Kyoraku. You can call me Shunsui."

"Hello Shunsui. Pleased to meet you," I said in a low voice, politely raising the dish of sake to my lips but drinking none. If he wanted to be cordial, so I would be.

"Ha, I told them you were nothing to be afraid of! You're a man just like any other."

"Au contraire, Shunsui. I'm a killer." His smile dropped a little as he looked at me, displeased I was ruining our pleasant chat.

"Aren't we all… At least here, most of us are. We can't condemn you for that," he reasoned, though it was difficult for me to imagine this man killing anyone. His eyes looked tired, but there was undeniable good humor in them, like he was enjoying a good laugh even when he frowned.

"Aren't you interested in why I came here so willingly?" I asked, wanting to get this over with.

"The others certainly are. That's why they sent me in here, to interrogate you, but I thought a little sake over light conversation sounded better." Suddenly, it struck me that he was very much like my brother Starrk. He had the same laid back, easy nature about him. They even sort-of looked similar.

"Oh but of course. Talk to the murderer first, before you sentence him to death." I couldn't help but let a little sarcasm seep into my words; I had been expecting them to kill me as soon as I came here, and this was taking too long.

"You think we will kill you?" I nodded.

"You killed Aaroniero, and probably Tosen. Besides, what would you do with me otherwise?" He shrugged.

"You're messing this 'light conversation' up, Aizen." I flinched at the name used to mean _me_. "All you've done this whole time is tell me again and again that you're a killer and so are we. Probably the counsel will decide to execute you, but what I don't get is why you're so eager about it."

I didn't say anything. Really, I had already spoken too much, but something about this man (perhaps his resemblance to one of the only brothers I could stand) encouraged me to. Already I had known coming here would mean death, but I wasn't going to spill all of my secrets just because they threatened me with it. Although, this man hadn't threatened me at all. I watched as he took another relaxed sip of his sake, draining the dish.

"Well, I've gotten all I can out of you, I think," he said with a sigh, heaving himself up and collecting his empty dish and the bottle. He left mine. "I gotta go talk to the others now… It was nice to chat, Aizen."

"Yes," I muttered. _Aizen_. That's who I was here. "Very pleasant."

***

"Ulquiorra Aizen," someone called, probably the judge in this ridiculous mock-court.

After talking to Kyoraku, I had been left alone for the rest of the evening. A plate of food had been shoved into the storage closet where they were keeping me last night and again this morning. Though I trusted that it wasn't poisoned, I ate nothing, preferring to let the hunger eat me inside and out.

Then, about mid-afternoon if I had to guess, I had been pulled from the room by Rukia Kuchiki, that tiny girl. I couldn't help but hold a fascination with her; so small yet so powerful, and I knew she had once held Ichigo's affections as well. Yes, a strange girl.

"They're going to try you. It's not the whole counsel, but it's who we could get on such short notice." She paused in her speech but kept walking, pushing me forward a bit. "My brother's going to be residing over it."

That's who was calling my name now, imploring me to rise and state my defense. I had none, though they had appointed a shaky little boy to be my "lawyer." He had introduced himself as Hanataro, and I realized he was the same boy from the picture in Saito's apartment; a doctor, not a lawyer.

"You have no case?" The imperious man before me asked. He looked down at me from the end of a regal, delicate nose and I immediately understood why he was chosen as judge. Condemning people seemed to be in his blood.

"No," I said, standing firm and meeting his eyes.

"Very well. The jury will now--"

"We've made our decision, Byakuya," a sickly-looking man with long, white hair interjected. Kuchiki rose an eyebrow at being interrupted and their lack of decorum, but turned to them and continued anyway.

"And that decision is?"

"Guilty of homicide," the man said with finality. I breathed out a sigh; finally this nonsense would soon be over.

"Very well. The accused is found to be guilty of homicide, the punishment for which is death. However, because Head Captain Yamamoto is not present, the execution will have to be put off until he returns."

Everyone nodded sanctimoniously then began to leave, expressions of solemnity painting each face. Were they honestly remorseful for condemning me to death? They had given me a trial, sham that it was. That was better than what any one of them would get were they to show up at the Aizen mansion. Yet there they were, looking so sad as they marched off, back to their lives. Hanataro looked on the verge of tears as he apologized then scampered off. After he had left, only the younger Kuchiki and I remained.

Her big violet eyes were glazed over, staring at nothing as she mulled something over. My hand twitched as I began to reach out to shake her from her reverie then decided against it, taking this as an opportunity to observe her. I realized she had probably been the one who killed Aaroniero; there was something in the way she carried herself and the other's respect of her that told that. I could hardly hold that against her, seeing as I had held no feeling for him, the realization only increasing my fascination with her.

Now, though, she just looked a bit tired, weary. Suddenly she shook herself, coming back to reality as she gazed steadily at me. "Head Captain Yamamoto won't be back for a few days, so you'll be staying in the actual prison until then," she told me, but her voice was distant; it was something she had to say to me, not what was on her mind. I nodded deftly but didn't otherwise move.

"Why do you have those markings on your face?" she asked, question so random I almost responded automatically, but I caught myself, pausing. I had never told anyone the reason I painted the teal lines on my cheeks, careful to never let the ink fade. Careful to never let myself forget what I had done. I hadn't even told Ichigo when he'd asked, but at he time I didn't even know him, nor did I care to.

It seemed incredible to me that there had ever been a point in time when Ichigo Kurosaki didn't mean the world to me.

"Call it repentance," I said, surprising even myself that I was telling her anything. "Tears shed for those who I robbed of life, and a reminder of my crimes." Many people thought when they saw the bright markings that I enjoyed standing out, but it was actually quite the opposite. As well as being a reminder and silent apology to the poor souls I was assigned to kill, it was also a punishment to myself, putting me at the mercy of curious eyes.

"You regret what you did?" she asked, a knowing tone in her voice that clearly said _I do. _I didn't respond, letting the painted tears coursing down my face answer that. Her eyes locked with mine, a fierce look replacing the gentle understanding that had been there before.

"I know about you and Ichigo." My eyes widened imperceptibly. "This is going to kill him, your death."

"I know," I said, trying not to let the sadness I felt leak in and ruin the lack of inflection I worked so hard on.

"Then why are you doing it, idiot?" she exploded, nearly shouting at me and taking a step forward. Yep; tiny but powerful, and you did _not_ want to get her mad.

"I'm doing what must be done." She rolled her eyes and jammed a finger into my chest, nearly making me fall backwards.

"No, you're being stupid. I don't know why you just gave yourself over to us, but I sure as hell don't trust an Aizen and I know you're up to something. Go ahead with your schemes; we'll just stop you, but don't you dare go dragging Ichigo down with you. He _trusted_ you, you know, even though he knew you were Aizen, the idiot."

I stood my ground, meeting her glare with my own calm gaze. Of course I knew this would hurt Ichigo. It was unfortunate, but unavoidable. Didn't the little blaze of fiery devotion before me realize what it did to me to hurt him? No, and why would she? I was just an Aizen, to her and everyone else here, so why should they trust me?

"He shouldn't have turned his back on a known enemy," I informed her coldly, masking my emotions as I was so apt to do.

"He shouldn't have needed to worry about that." She looked down, suddenly deflated. "You messed him up, you know that? He was always so sure of everything, then you came along and suddenly the enemy didn't seem so bad and nothing was black and white anymore," she whispered.

"I know," I replied, tone just as soft as hers. Usually I would never admit this type of thing, but something in me wanted so badly to explain to someone, anyone, and her temper reminded me so much of Ichigo. "I know because he did the same thing to me. But… duty is duty."

She scoffed, grabbing the cuffs that imprisoned my wrists once again and led me out of the main part of the bar where the meeting had taken place. We went through a different door than the one I had been through before, and it occurred to me that this place was probably much bigger than the average bar. Clearly I was right by the number of doors that spawned off of this hallway. She opened one of them to reveal stairs heading down to what was undoubtedly a prison. There were several small cells set against the walls, all of them empty except for one at the end where a figure sat slumped with their back to me. I was shoved into the cell next to this one, Rukia being none too gentle with the bastard who had hurt her friend.

As soon as she had left, I allowed myself the tiniest and most sad of smiles. Even with the delay, my plan was going perfectly. I'd be dead before my letter could reach him, before he even knew why.

* * *

Author's note: Are you confused? That's okay, things should become clear next chapter. This one was supposed to be suspensful, but that failed... Anyway, the characters (especially Ulquiorra) are going to become increasingly OOC because this story puts them in positions they would never be in the anime/manga, but do tell me if you think I'm going crazy with my artistic liberties. Oh, and also, Rukia's going to start being a pretty big character because I like her. Hehe... Happy reading!


	8. Down

Author's Note: This is probably obvious, but the itallics are the letter. Duh, I know. Anyway, quick update this time, and fair warning, it's almost done. Happy reading. _

* * *

_

Just a Number

_Dear Ichigo,_

I'd written him a letter, one that I could remember every word of when I closed my eyes that night in my cell. I didn't want to remember those words that I'd written because I'd known even as I wrote them that they would hurt to read. My hand had stopped, hovering over the page after I'd written the customary opening of a letter, it's meaning suddenly occurring to me. Dear Ichigo, as in, Ichigo who I hold dear. The words repeated in my head again and again as I tried to think of what to write, how to say it.

_Dear Ichigo,_

_I believe, when you read this, that I will be dead. Killed, hopefully, by members of the Soul Society, a group to which I know you belong. I've known almost from the start; it was only fair, considering you knew I was an Aizen. Did you plan it, I wonder, becoming involved with me? Regardless, that doesn't matter now, because in order for my death not to have been worthless, I need you to listen to my reasoning then carefully follow my instructions. _

I had decided to be practical about it, I guess in the hopes that it would hurt him less if he knew why, if he could make sense of it. Maybe it would be comforting if he knew it wasn't personal. Maybe I was simply being selfish, reverting to my blunt, direct manor because it was easiest for me. Whatever the case, I knew that I had to explain it to him so that no other lives would be taken or destroyed.

_My life is a necessary sacrifice to end the warring between our groups and my father's bloody reign. The Soul Society is winning now, but even if you were to defeat him this once, you would not be able to prevent the same from happening again in the future. My father knows too many people, has too great an influence. But you already have taken Tosen and have killed Aaroniero. I am one of my father's favorite, one of the most obedient and useful. My death at your hands will bring the war to a decisive end and is a small price to pay, I think, to spare the lives of so many._

_However, as I have said before, this would not stop my father from going back to his business after the war was over. He would suffer very little, in the end. So, in order to eradicate him entirely, I have collected enough irrefutable evidence against him and put it in a safety deposit box in the National Bank. Before writing this letter I have already informed the bank employees that you and only you are allowed access to this box. All you must do is provide proof of your identity, and at your fingertips will be enough evidence for you to be able to lock him away for life, if not a death sentence. _

There, all of the practical things taken care of. But the letter felt incomplete, and I felt compelled to continue.

_But, as you may have guessed, that is not all that I wish to address in this letter. You see, Ichigo, I have broken my own rule. No emotions were to get involved in my dealings with you, but somewhere along the way, they have. I'm sorry that I have to do this to you, but it is necessary. If there were any other way… but this isn't just about my father. It's also for me, atonement for all of the crimes I've committed. How could I ever look the child being placed in my care in the eye knowing I had killed her aunt for no reason beyond a simple order? My life is a sham, each breath of mine the last of someone who I've selfishly killed in order to keep living myself. _

_The guilt gnaws at me constantly, but this is a way, a way for it least to make a bit of sense. Yet, isolated as my existence was, I am leaving some people behind. Yammy, for instance, one of my brothers. He loved me, I think, though I'm not sure why. I'm not sure why you loved me either. Yes, I think you loved me, and I don't feel I'm being too presumptuous in assuming you did, even if you never got to say it. I know this because I could feel it when you kissed me and see it when you looked at me; it was an emotion I saw reflected in my own actions. I not only broke my rule, I broke it in the worst of ways. I fell in love with you, Ichigo, with everything about you. Your scowl and that ridiculous hair, and how you're so very different from me. How you don't ever let me bother you and you're never perturbed by my coldness. How you made me more than myself, made me feel human for the first time in my life._

_Leaving you behind is my one regret. It hurts me to know this will cause you pain, because that's the last thing I'd ever want to do to you. But it must be done, and if I think about you any more, I'll loose my resolve. I'm going to go now and turn myself over to the Soul Society. Oh, and Ichigo, I'd like it very much if you would raise the child I was to adopt, but of course don't feel as though you have to. If you do, though, tell her that I loved her very much even though I never got to meet her and that I loved you too, that maybe we could have all been happy together. I want her to have the family I never did. _

_I hope that in another life, maybe in another world, we will meet again, live again, love again. My heart goes with you, always._

_Forever yours,_

_Ulquiorra_

It was strange to admit, even on paper. So unlike me, yet every word was true. I'd fought for them not to be, but in the end, I hadn't tried that hard. I'd let it happen, every moment, and I didn't regret it in the slightest, though it broke my heart to let him go. Somewhere between him saving my life and my decision to end it, he reminded me what it was to have a heart to break. I thanked him for that, more than he could ever know.

* * *

I didn't sleep that night, but confined to my tiny cell with nothing to do but listen to the steady breathing of the only other occupant of the prison, it didn't much matter. Once morning came, Rukia came too, bringing us both a bit of food. I didn't look over at the man, not caring who he was. What did it matter? Nothing, when I was to be killed later that afternoon, according to Rukia. She said that they had received word from the Head Captain that he was not far off, and they were expecting him around 2:00. This information meant little to me, seeing as I had no way of telling time.

"I…I haven't told Ichigo yet. He's off duty for a few weeks, so he hasn't heard of any of this at all. The Head Captain thinks that's best, considering his bias in the situation, though he only knows you two are friends, nothing more. But if you'd like…" she let her offer hang, big eyes looking meaningfully into mine.

"No," I said, voice an even monotone that neatly covered up the rather loud voice screaming "Yes!" in my head. It would be selfish to ask to see him once more. That would only complicate things and ultimately make this harder on both of us.

Rukia looked a bit surprised at my response but said nothing, instead simply turning to leave. I looked down with distaste at the bowl of rice and cup of green tea before me. Preferring to continue in my regimen of self-punishment, I turned away from the tray, planning on a quiet morning of self-reflection before my execution.

"I never thought they'd catch you, Ulquiorra," a calm voice said. I turned sharply and found myself looking at none other than Tosen sitting in the cell beside mine, quietly eating his rice with the utmost care. "How did it happen?"

"I turned myself in," I informed him tersely. So, they had kept him. Probably they had some grand plan involving him being alive, if only just for a while longer.

"Ah. They came for me one night while I was in the office. I went quietly with them. They are actually very kind, most of them." Oh, yes, Tosen had a great love of peace. This had always surprised me, considering that he allied himself with my father. Silence settled between us for a while as Tosen slowly ate his rice then sipped his tea, looking at me all the while with those sightless eyes.

"You are going to be killed," he said after a moment. "Is this the outcome you expected in turning yourself in?"

"Yes." There was no point in lying anymore, not to anyone. Tosen was hardly in a position to foil my plans, at any rate.

"So you hope for an end to all this violence. I, too, hope for this, though I admit I'm not quite so noble as you."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked beside myself. I was a murderer, the least noble type of person in the world.

"You are giving your life for this hope, in order to save others." I shook my head, then remembered he couldn't see the gesture.

"No. I have killed so many. It's merely my turn." Tosen smiled in a knowing way but remained silent.

After that the prison was quiet for a long while, both of us absorbed in our thoughts. I had never really talked in length with Tosen, but I had seen a pattern in those he requested us to kill, one that my father had not. They were all criminals, usually murderers who got off on some loophole. I supposed then, after talking to him, that it was his form of justice, taking matters into his own hands. But those I had killed were innocent, some ridiculously so. Like Asami Saito, whose only crime was her carelessness, a deadly sin in this world my father had created and orchestrated from on high.

"Like I give a fuck! Get outa my way!" I paled, recognizing that voice, crass as it was. Ichigo.

Seconds later he stormed in, looking furious and wind-blown and perfect. He stomped to stand in front of my cell, Tosen turning in his direction curiously. For a moment he just looked at me, apparently unable to bring himself to speak to me. Clutched in his hand was something I recognized-- the letter I'd sent. Damn the delay of my execution and the city's quick postal service.

"What the hell is this!" he finally exclaimed, thrusting the letter at the bars. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I blinked at him impassively, though all I really wanted to do was weep into his shoulder.

"I believe I explained it clearly enough in my lett--"

"Fuck your letter," he interrupted me. "Nice one, by the way. Real classy, not even having the guts to say it to my face. If you had, then maybe… I dunno, maybe I'd have been able to convince you this idea is batshit crazy!"

"It is the only way, Ichigo," I replied coolly, not quite meeting his eyes. They were fiery, full of hurt and anger and one other emotion that I never thought I'd see and didn't want to, couldn't stand to--fear.

"No, no it's not, Ulquiorra. Do you know how hard I tried to convince them you were good, not to have me kill you when I could have so easily? Do you know how much shit I got for spending time with you, and they didn't even know the half of it--"

"Hush," It was my turn to interrupt him, glancing to the door. It was all good and well for me to sacrifice myself, but I wasn't going to drag Ichigo down with me, let alone let him drag himself down. He leaned closer to the bars, a look of desperation mingled with determination coming into his eyes as he spoke, voice lowered now.

"I can talk to them, tell them you're not in your right mind, or… or something! I don't know, but I'm not gonna let you do this."

"You will do no such thing. This is necessary, Ichigo. You read the letter. My death will lead to an end to this fighting, giving you enough time to use the evidence I gave you to pin him down--"

"What if he just _thought _you were dead, your dad?" he asked pensively, not really looking at me.

"Were you listening at all?" I asked, exasperated. This wasn't the time for wild speculations. He seemed to snap out of it, eyes focusing on me once again, a light of inspiration now glowing within them.

"Yeah, I mean, no, not really, but hear me out. What if your dad thought you were dead, then he would end the war and we could use the evidence in the safety deposit thingy to get him. Same plan, just no dead you at the end."

I sighed. In theory, it would work, but I was already in pretty deep as it was. I'd have to ally with the Soul Society, convince them not to kill me and that I really was on their side, then remain in hiding until my father was put away for good, if that even ever happened. Though we had good evidence, my father knew a good deal of people in high places. Prosecuting him right after suffering a humiliating defeat at the hands of the Soul Society would help, but even kicking him while he was down wouldn't guarantee victory.

"They'd never believe you. You're biased because of our friendship, though at least they don't know about the full nature of our relationship. Still, you have nothing backing you up but the sheer desire to free me. Not a convincing argument." He stood for a moment, stumped, before a grin slowly made its way back onto his face.

"This," he said, waving the letter in one hand as he pulled the envelope out of his pocket with the other. "The post office stamps a date on each letter whenever they send it. You mailed it before coming here. What benefit would it have for you to send it, considering that you assumed they'd kill you. Way to show faith in the organization, by the way. They'll love that."

"I was merely assuming thet you'd do the same thing an Aizen would do," I replied absently, thinking over what he'd said. Actually, it could work. Then, with me on their side, they could more effectively fight him. I could testify against him in court. But, if this plan didn't work and they killed me, he would be taken down anyway. It was a win/win.

"We could try," I said tentatively. By this point I'd drawn close to the bars as well, all the better to converse with him. Suddenly I noticed how close we were, something that I'd thought would never happen again. He smelt so good, like the clinic's medicines and Yuzu's cooking and something that was just… him.

"Yeah, I knew I could turn you around to it," he said, grinning. Our eyes met and we simply looked at each other for a moment, green meeting brown. "About the rest of the letter…" he trialed off, his smile turning into that trade-mark scowl. Funny thing about it, though, was that it didn't make him look grumpy or upset like a scowl would on anyone else. It just made him look like Ichigo.

"You love me?" I didn't reply, a slight blush staining my cheeks. The scowl was becoming a smile again, though; well, really more like a smirk.

"You do, don't you?" he teased me, tone soft. Light shimmered in his eyes, brightening up his whole face.

"Ichigo, I believe we have more pressing issues," I reprimanded, blush spreading.

"Say it…"

"Say what? Ichigo, we don't have time for this," I started, planning on further scolding him, but as soon as I looked up to chastise him to his face, he'd caught my lips with his, kissing me through the cold metal bars.

"Tell me you love me…" he breathed, nose touching mine.

"I love you," I whispered, hardly realizing what I was saying I was so lost in his intense gaze, now honeyed with affection.

"I love you too, but you already figured that out. Guess I couldn't hide it very well." And he kissed me again, one last time before he left to go fight for my life. As I watched him go, I couldn't have loved him more.


	9. Hot

Just a Number

I didn't have to wait long for him to come back. Half an hour later he barged in, guard simply letting him this time to avoid another scene. A huge grin was plastered across his face, scowl completely forgotten.

"They believe me! Well, some of them do, but… good enough, right?" he announced as he strolled in, hardly sparing Tosen a glance. I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Some? Ichigo, we're going to need the full support of everyone. They have to trust me with their lives, literally," I pointed out, meeting him at the bars. He gave me a quick peck on the lips before pulling away, familiar frown back where it belonged.

"Way to rain on the parade, Ulquiorra. The people we have are the ones that matter, anyway. Almost all of the Captains except for Byakuya, but that's because he doesn't like me." I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"Captains?" I asked, realizing that both he and Rukia had used the title.

"Oh, yeah. Soul Society's arranged sort-of like an army. It's really expansive, actually, but we're rarely all together." From the sounds of it, it seemed as though it was even more like an ancient cult than I thought. I wanted to press the subject, but there were more important things at the moment.

"The captains support us?" I asked, trying to get him to focus.

"Yeah, and most of the girls, too," he added, blushing a little. "They, uh, think you're sweet."A light blush colored my cheeks as well. We had decided to leave in my confession because it gave me motivation, an easily understandable reason why I'd side with the Soul Society.

"Captain Unohana says to tell you that you have some serious self-worth issues," he continued with a scowl, looking serious now. "And I have to agree with her. You're not planning on committing suicide, are you?"

"Don't be an idiot. Can you not read?"

"Hey, I'm just worried about you. Besides, I don't want to work so hard to get you out if you're not gonna enjoy it." I closed my eyes for a moment, thinking of how to say what I meant. It was something I couldn't explain, why I had been so willing to die. I suppose I saw it as something I could do to absolve me of my sins, but that was before I realized just how much I was leaving behind.

"I will stay," I said slowly, opening my eyes, "as long as it's worth it."

"Alright, I'll take that for now. You really should see Unohana, though. She's a doctor."

"It would take a lifetime to undo the work of my father." His frown deepened.

"You know, I've always been told to despise that man for his crimes, and I do. But I despise him for nothing more than what he did to you." _Me too,_ I thought, realizing that it may have been the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me, though I could think of nothing to say in response to it.

"What do we do next?" I asked instead.

"Renji and Rukia are going to come and get us when the council is ready. They want to talk to you, and most of them are here, too. For your execution, I guess."

"Everyone likes a good killing," I muttered as two people marched in. One, of course, was Rukia, followed by a tall man with shockingly red hair that I recognized only from Saito's picture.

"Hey! They're ready for you and your boy-toy!" he exclaimed, causing me to wince. And here I was thinking there was no one with a louder voice and brighter hair than Ichigo.

"Don't call him that," Ichigo snapped, turning to face them as they approached. "Besides, you're one to talk. How's your _girlfriend_?"

"Oi! Don't call my brother a girl!" Rukia barked, adding to the noise until nothing could be discerned from the echoing cacophony. Finally I cleared my throat and they settled down. I looked at them blankly for a moment, surprised that with so little effort I could quiet them.

"So…um…let's go," Ichigo said awkwardly after a pause. Renji waved over the guard, handing him a small note which he read quickly before unlocking my cell.

"Oh. Ulquiorra, this is Renji. Renji, this is Ulquiorra," Ichigo introduced us quickly after being nudged in the side by Rukia. I nodded shortly as he waved, saying "Yo."

"Rukia says you met already." Another nod, this time in her direction. We walked the rest of the way in silence, the others seeming a bit nervous. Well, they were going up against their captains, people who they probably had great respect for and a bit of fear as well.

The meeting was held in the bar, as before, but many more faces had been added. All were in the same odd uniform as everyone else but with a white haori, too. Among them I recognized Byakuya Kuchiki, Shunsui Kyoraku (pink kimono fluttering about as usual) and the sickly white-haired man. As soon as we entered, the room fell silent. Many other people lined the walls, making me feel as though I were on display, the main attraction to some weird circus.

"Aizen," an impressive-looking old man with a long white beard addressed me. Clearly he was presiding this time, his chair being in the middle of the row set up along the wall. The chairs were raised and a long table was placed before them, giving it the air of a court. On the desk sat my letter.

"I would prefer, sir," I said softly, facing him, "if you would call me Schiffer." About a dozen blank faces looked back at me for a moment before they seemed to recover, the imposing man in the middle (who I assumed was Yamamoto) doing so first.

"You do not wish to be addressed as Aizen? Is it not your name?" he asked, looking down at me.

"Legally I am Schiffer. I have never gone by Aizen and find the name and all of its associations disgusting."

"Very well," he growled, voice gruff with age. Acting as if in response to some unspoken command, Ichigo, Renji, Rukia and I all knelt. I was a bit touched that Rukia and Renji were there; they did not know me, yet due to their loyalty to Ichigo, they took my word without a second thought. Ichigo inspired that, I suppose.

"Kurosaki, Kuchiki, Abarai—you choose to defend him?" Yamamoto asked.

"Yes, Head Captain, if we may," Rukia responded, head bent low in a bow.

"So be it." He paused, facing me and me alone now. All was silent and tense with anticipation. "Schiffer, did you write this letter?"

"Yes."

"And is all that you say within it true and written with honest intentions?"

"Yes."

"You wish the Soul Society, your sworn enemy, no harm?"

"Yes." A mutter flitted through the room before it was silenced by a glance from Yamamoto. His eyes were piercing into me as though he could see the truth written on my face.

"Why have you decided only now, after all of your crimes, that you will cause no more harm?"

"Up until recently, I did not understand humanity or reconciliation. These things have only just been taught to me. I think, should you be curious how that came about, the letter explains perfectly." Yamamoto's eyes flicked briefly down to it, then to Ichigo, and finally back to me.

"Very well. I still don't understand, however, why you have chosen to side with us. If you were done with your current life, you could have simply left, disappeared, yet you chose to help us instead. Why?"

"I did not do this for you. Had my plan worked out perfectly, you would have never even known I was helping you. My goal was to destroy my father, so I devised a way not only to stop him but to humiliate him as well. Had he gone to trial and seen the evidence I provided, he would have known he was betrayed on top of having been defeated." Yamamoto's eyebrows rose a bit, wrinkling his forehead even more.

"Your dislike goes deep. What would you do if we were to accept you?" Ah, so he was considering it. This may work after all.

"Continue with my previous plan, with one exception; my death would be fake. You could announce to Aizen that you've killed me, then, when the time came, I would testify in court against him. Or, of course, I could reveal to him that I've betrayed him, which might be quite as awful to him as losing to the Soul Society." Yamamoto considered me carefully, scanning me with those piercing eyes.

"Very well. The captains and I will discuss this matter, along with the other members of the Soul Society. We will announce our decision shortly," he declared. Clearly it was a dismissal because as soon as the words had left his mouth, the four of us kneeling before them stood. "Oh, Kuchiki, Abarai, Kurosaki; will you stay, please? A guard is waiting to escort Mr. Schiffer back to his cell," Yamamoto added. Ichigo glanced meaningfully at me for a second, worried brown eyes meeting my own. Silently I turned and strode from the room, giving him permission to stay.

A gentle tug on my sleeve caused me to look around at the tiny boy who was pulling on it. He smiled nervously then made a vague gesture somewhere between a shrug and pointing to the door, so I assumed he wanted me to follow him. Obviously they either trusted or severely underestimated me, assigning me a guard who nearly anyone could overtake without breaking a sweat.

"I believe you," he said softly as we made our way back to the prison again. Suddenly I realized I had no cuffs on, and none had been used on the way there, as well. When I said nothing, the boy tentatively went on.

"Mostly because Abarai-san does, but also because… because, well, I was there when they read the letter out loud," Oh, good, my _very personal_ confession of love read out loud to an audience. "And I saw the way you guys look at each other, you and Kurosaki-san. I don't think you would do anything to hurt him."

I looked at him for a moment as he led the way, beads strung in his hair bouncing and jingling. Though I didn't think anyone who would do something purely because Abarai did could be very intelligent, it was good to know there was at least someone who believed me.

"What is your name?" I asked him as we began to descend the stairs to the jail.

"Rikichi," he replied. "People were always confusing me with Hanataro, so I put these beads in my hair. That way people can tell us apart. There you go," he added, shepherding me into my cell. "Oh, and Kurosaki-san said you had better eat something or he'd come back and… well, do something not very nice to you. I think you ought to do it."

I sighed, nodding vaguely. How had Ichigo found out I hadn't been eating? Oh well… Rikichi bowed and bid me farewell before leaving, promising to come and get me as soon as he had any news. As I settled down once again, picking at the cold rice from that morning, I found myself actually sort-of hoping they allowed me to live. While it was never my plan to join forces with them, it would have its advantages. I would be doing good, probably have to kill much less, and there would no longer be any secrecy between Ichigo and I. The later was motivation enough for me; now that we could trust one another, I could give in to that emotion that had captured me. The very same emotion Aizen would never allow.

"So you're siding with them, are you?" Tosen asked softly, startling me a bit. I often forgot he was there, seeing as he was almost entirely silent most of the time.

"Yes. Do you disapprove?" I didn't particularly care about his opinion, but it would be interesting to hear.

"No. While I have allied myself with your father, the decision is yours to make. You are simply doing what you believe is right." He paused, pondering something. "I suppose it is what's right, though I've never been strong enough for it. It is much easier to simply have someone kill who you disagree with rather than find some other way to deal with the problem."

"What will you do?" I asked, a bit curious beside myself.

"I am here because I have asked to stay in order to avoid this conflict. After they took me, the point was made, so they no longer need me. I'm free to go at any time." Ah, how I wished I could do the same, but it was impossible. I had been instrumental in my father's rise, and so must be instrumental in his decline. However much I may distance myself from him, I was bound to him irrevocably until he was gone.

"I see."

Nearly an hour of silence passed after that. It seemed that the decision was difficult for them, but I didn't feel particularly anxious. A strange calm settled over me as I sat thinking in my cell. For the first time in my life, people would take note if I died, and most of them people I had met just a few days ago. Ichigo had changed my life in ways neither of us had ever expected… For some reason my thoughts strayed to Rikichi and his ridiculous loyalty to Renji. He was ready and willing to trust fully that I, a known enemy, had switched sides simply because Renji was. Once I would have scoffed at him, but that was before I met Ichigo. I wasn't so very different from innocent Rikichi; I trusted Ichigo's friends to defend my life because he did. So I waited while the three of them made their case, fighting for me. And I trusted them… well, as far as I was capable of it.

Suddenly a clatter brought me back to reality and I looked up to see a large group of people crowding into the tiny prison. All were smiling broadly, telling me clearly that there was good news for me, but I wanted to hear _him_ say it, that orange-haired force of nature leading the group. I expected to see his cocky smirk that he usually wore in times such as these, but instead there was only an honest smile, the purest I'd ever seen him give. Calmly he stepped back and allowed the guard to unlock my cell, the group quieting down as he entered.

"Hey," he greeted me, eyes a deep, chocolate brown.

"Is that all?" I asked playfully; though my voice was an even monotone, I knew he would pick up my intent. I could tell I was right by the sparkle that lit up his eyes and how his smile widened as he stepped closer. Impulsively I took a step forward as well so we were so close I had to look up at him, forgetting for a moment that we weren't alone.

"No," he said softly so the others couldn't hear. "You're free. Well, you have to stay at Gotei 13, but you're free to live. They believed us." I almost allowed a smile to touch my lips but resisted the temptation, merely letting it dance in my eyes.

"No, they believed _you_," I paused, unused to saying what I was about to. "Thank you." His eyes widened just a bit, surprised to hear me admit I needed help. Deciding to see just how wide I could make them, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his in front of everyone.

For a moment he was unresponsive, a blush staining his cheeks and eyes even wider than I expected, then they slid shut as his arms snaked around my waist. Next it was my turn to be shocked when he deepened the kiss, coaxing my mouth open. For a second we were both lost in it, lost in our new freedom and openness with each other and in our love. Suddenly someone wolf-whistled and several people laughed after a cry of "Get a room!" We broke apart, stumbling back a bit and blushing as we caught our breath.

"Wow, Ichi, you never did that with me," Rukia teased him, poking him in the side as she came into the cell. Renji followed soon after, then someone else, then the whole crowd, all wanting to meet the newest Soul Reaper (which, by the way, I said I would be an ally, not a Soul Reaper, but they would hear none of that). Despite Ichigo's insistence that I really didn't like being crowded and there would be time for them to meet me one at a time later and, after about five minutes, simply "Oi! Back off!" they kept coming until finally Ichigo simply grabbed my wrist and dragged me away.

Once he had pulled me down the hall and into a room at the end of the hall, he released my wrist and locked the door, looking hassled. Giving him a moment to calm down, I looked around the small room. It was clearly a bedroom (the bed was a dead giveaway) but there was also a mini-fridge and microwave set near an open door, tiny bathroom visible beyond.

"There are several rooms here like this for when some of the members need a place to stay a while or are on duty," he explained, seeing me inspecting the room. I nodded and perched on the edge of the bed. Suddenly an edge of awkwardness filled the room. Now that all the excitement had settled down, we both simultaneously seemed to remember the contents of my letter and the weight it had added to our still-young relationship.

"So, um… You have to stay here, in the bar, but… I mean, you probably guessed that since you're faking your death and all, so… yeah," he trailed off lamely, avoiding my gaze. A strained minute passed in silence before his expression changed slightly, as though he had just remembered something. "In your letter you mentioned something… that you had killed the aunt of the child that was placed in your care. Does that mean you're the one who killed Asami Saito and basically started this whole war?"

"Yes. It was, of course, an order from my father, but I knew what I was doing, the implications of my actions." Ichigo shook his head slightly, sinking into a chair by the door that faced the bed.

"Good thing the council didn't know that. It was iffy as it was… But it makes sense, that you would have all this guilt about it." I nodded, not knowing what to say to that.

"Why did you ask me to raise the baby?" he asked, making my stomach sink. I was hoping he wouldn't ask about that. I took my time in answering, choosing my words carefully.

"The child would still need someone to adopt her, and I wanted to make sure she was cared for so as not to leave any loose ends. I did not want my father to get his hands on her and put her through what I went through." He nodded shortly as I had just done, but I could tell there was still something weighing on his mind.

"Did you… um…" Uncomfortably he rubbed the back of his head, a bad sign for the part of me that _really_ didn't want to talk about what I had implied in my letter. "You kinda made it sound like you wanted to… I mean, it's just that, when you were talking about family and all… Do you want to have kids with me?"

I could only imagine the brilliant color my face must have been as heat spread all the way to my hair line. A week ago I had been insisting he meant nothing to me, not even allowing him to ask if we could even think about properly dating. But now, now I was being forced to admit I'd been lying, called out on my fib. Yes, I wanted to raise Saito's child with him. I wanted to get married and live in the suburbs and have a damn white picket fence, as though I was normal or there was anything normal about the relationship we had. As though we had a relationship! Sure, we had both said that we loved each other, but that was…

"Look… it's okay if you were just saying that because you thought you were going to die. People do that sort of thing. Let's… let's just get used to being together first, okay? Then we can think about that type of thing."

"You may decide on your involvement later, but she will be born soon and I have already adopted her." Not that I wanted to add pressure to our budding relationship, but what I had said was true. He needn't know my emotional stance on the matter, but he did need to know what he was getting into.

"Soon you'll be declared dead, though, remember?"

"My father won't have me declared until he has a body. That's just the way he works; everything must be certain." I paused, seeing the uncertainty in his expression. "But you're right, we should just be us first, for a time. The child's not even born yet."

His expression cleared and he came over to the bed, plopping down and picking up where we left off in the cell. Of course I still felt the way I had a few moments ago, and of course I was still a bit panicked to discover I had bought in to the ideal of two-point-five kids and a nice brick house, but just for the moment, I was content to just be with him, held tightly as he kissed his way down my collar bone. We were finally together, and he said he loved me. That was enough for me, and we could work out the rest later.

* * *

Author's Note: sorry this took so long, my computor is sick. feedback would be nice, please, so i can know what direction to go in from here. thanks for reading!


	10. Cold

Just a Number

_Thu-thump. Thu-thump. _

Ichigo's steady heartbeat filled my head as it did every morning, my head resting on his chest as he held me close. Every morning I woke up first and, having long ago realized there was no way to extract myself from his grip without waking him up, lay listening to his heartbeat and rhythmic breathing. It wasn't as though I had anything to do, seeing as I was relegated to Gotei 13 until the Soul Society could press charges against Aizen.

Suddenly my pillow stirred and the arms around me loosened. I took full advantage of this, wiggling out and kneeling next to him, kissing his eyelids till he opened them. His sleepy brown gaze met my own electric green one, a scowl already on his lips in spite of the happiness in his eyes.

"What time is it?" he asked, voice groggy.

"Seven thirty. You know I don't let you sleep in," I replied, rolling over and peering up at him as he stood and stretched. My gaze stayed on him as he went through his morning routine, relishing that I had nowhere to be and would probably go back to sleep after he'd left for work. Not that I was particularly lazy, but after all that had happened, I was ready for a break.

"It's been a week. The black is getting a bit ridiculous," I pointed out as he emerged from the bathroom ready to go to the clinic, wearing all black as he had since the Soul Society had announced they had killed me. To add realism, he said, since Aizen had known we were involved.

"I'd wear black forever if you died," he said seriously, coming over to kiss my forehead before looking into my eyes. "Clinic closes at seven, but I've got to stay for dinner. Watch switches at nine, so I'll be back some time after that."

Aizen had been watching several places he'd expect me to be, clearly not trusting the Soul Society's claim. He had several places under constant vigilance, but unbeknownst to him, the Soul Society not only knew this but where they were stationed and when the guard shifted. As soon as this guard was lifted, we could assume he had accepted my death and then swoop in while he was still regrouping to press charges. Until then, though, I had to remain hidden and Ichigo had to mourn my "death." His father helped the realism, having believed his son's story that I'd been in a car wreck and responding by swathing the entire clinic in black to lament the death of its benefactor.

Stealing one last kiss goodbye, he left, reminding me to be nice to the Soul Reapers. Everyone was fascinated in me, and understandably so, but they quickly discovered I talked to no one but Ichigo. What they didn't know, however, was that many of my afternoons were spent with Rukia Kuchiki, who I often liked. She could be as loud and unruly as Abarai (who I was less fond of), but most of the time she was quite civilized. Moreover, she was a wealth of information about the Soul Society and ever-ready to answer my questions, not to mention she broke up the solitude of the long wait for Ichigo to come back from work.

A sharp knock and soft call of "Ulquiorra?" at my door startled me into getting up and opening the door to see the very subject of my thoughts, Rukia, already dressed in her Shinigami (I had learned this other word for Soul Reapers right away) robes and holding a bento box wrapped in a scarf.

"Hello. I thought we'd have breakfast this morning." She broke off, seeing I was still in my pajamas. "Is Ichigo still here?"

I shook my head, letting her in to the small room. She smiled softly, sitting down gently in the chair by the door that Ichigo had sat in my first night there. Understanding her intent of a picnic, I set about getting dressed as she talked to me through the bathroom door.

"Nii-sama doesn't like that I spend time with you, probably because you were with Aizen. If he got to know you, though, he'd realize how similar you two are. You're a much better influence then Renji and Ichigo," she was saying as I emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed.

"Your brother is a captain."

"Yeah, but most of the other captains have accepted you," she reminded me, standing and leading the way out the door and down the hall to the bar. Several others were there, sitting in their small cliques (Rukia called them "squads"), but they ignored us, having grown used to my presence.

"How many captains are there?" I asked as we sat at one of the booths and Rukia set up the meal.

"One for each squad, so thirteen. Nii-sama is captain of the sixth squad." She paused, finishing setting out the meal before continuing. "Each squad also has a lieutenant and several seats. Though all thirteen of them are sort-of unnecessary now, we keep them out of tradition."

"How old is the Soul Society?" I asked, thinking of the odd outfits and swords the members wore.

"At least 500 years, though I think more. Our golden age was during the Warring States Period when we were basically the only stable form of government. Now we mostly just keep an eye out for guys like Aizen," she explained, smiling at me before showing me a doodle she'd drawn while telling me the history. I think it was of a shinigami-bunny fighting another bunny that looked suspiciously like Aizen, but it was so poorly drawn it was hard to tell.

"I've got a question for you," she said, setting her picture aside with care. "What do you plan to do after Aizen's gone?"

To be honest, I didn't know how to answer it. I'd been thinking about it for a week, ever since that first night when I found out the Soul Society had accepted me. Of all the problems racing around in my head, this was the one troubling me the most—where would my place be after Aizen was gone? There was always the Soul Society, but something didn't feel right about it. My mind drifted to where I refused to let it go; my hopes for a normal life. How could such a thing happen for me? I hadn't breathed a word of my ridiculous desires to Ichigo, afraid after our conversation that night. I hadn't gotten strong vibes that he felt the same way as me, and even if he did, such a thing would hardly be possible. Japan wasn't exactly accepting of our lifestyle, much less of us having children. It would be understandable for Ichigo to not want to deal with that for the rest of his life. But still, the question remained as to what I would do.

"I'm not sure," I answered at last, a heavy weight in my chest. I hated not knowing, and I hated the prospect that Ichigo might not be there to help me work it out.

"Well, you're always welcome here, you know," she pointed out, popping a piece of egg in her mouth. I simply nodded, listening as she chatted about something, trying to push thoughts of the future out of my head. Unfortunately, the future has a nasty way of becoming the present, and I couldn't hold it off forever. I had to talk to him.

That night at exactly 9:15 I heard a light tap at my door before Ichigo let himself in. I looked up briefly from where I was curled against the headboard before going back to my book. _You need to talk to him, _I told myself. _Soon they'll be pressing charges and you have to know what you're going to do after that._

"Hey," he said, sitting beside me. He smelt like the clinic and rain. I hadn't been outside for a week, so I had no idea what the weather was like. _Quit thinking about the weather. Talk to him!_

"How was your day?" he ventured, sensing my tense mood.

"Fine," I answered shortly, turning the page.

"A guy came into the clinic today that'd had a lobotomy back in '61. That's kind-of cool," he tried again.

"Yes." We sat in silence for a moment, Ichigo seeming to be figuring out his next attack as I pretended to read. Suddenly he snatched my book away.

"Ichigo," I said reproachfully, fixing him with a glare.

"Don't do this with me. I expect you to be an ass hole to everyone else, but not to me. Did something happen today?" he asked, a note of concern in his otherwise annoyed voice.

"No. I'm fine," I replied, taking my book back. _Come on, you have to do it. _"Saito called a few days ago." That got a reaction. Immediately a look of concern filled his face and he was bursting with questions.

"You didn't pick up, did you? Because they're probably watching her, too. Did she leave a message? Is the baby okay?"

"Of course I didn't answer," I cut across his babble. "And yes, she left a message. The baby's fine," I added quickly, forestalling more questions.

"Oh. Why'd she call then?"

"Just checking in, but she reminded me that the baby's due in a week." Ichigo sighed, realizing where I was going with this.

"I don't know if you'll be able to go out by then. We're working on getting the case together, but it takes time. Luckily the watchmen he's got posted are getting sloppy, a sure sign they don't really think they'll see anything. At this point, though, even if Aizen admits we've won we won't be able to get him in court for…another week, at least," he explained, his exhaustion over the whole thing evident. The entire Soul Society was buzzing with activity, all of it centered on prosecuting Aizen. Since Ichigo was integrally involved in this (it had been his assignment since before we had met) and still going to work as well as taking care of me on top of it all, he was stretched pretty thin.

"I understand." He gave me a small smile, an honest one like he he'd had in the cell and like he'd been giving me ever since. He was so honest and open with me, something I wasn't used to. And then it occurred to me why this usually guarded person was so open with me—he expected the same in return.

"Do you love me?" I suddenly asked, deciding to give him the blunt honesty he deserved. He seemed a bit caught off guard, both by what I had said and that I had spoken at all.

"Yes," he said after a moment, cautious. "Why?"

"Rukia asked me what I was going to do after Aizen was gone. I couldn't answer," I admitted, struggling to hide how much this worried me.

"You'll stay with me, of course," he said at once, still looking confused; confused as to why this wasn't obvious.

"But I'll have a child."

"So? Yuzu loves kids. And you don't need to get a job if you don't want to, right?" I shook my head dumbly, unable to believe it. He didn't even care that I'd have a baby, he wanted me anyway. Assumed, even, that I'd live with him and his family. It was so generous, so…loving; all I could do was smile, an unrestrained expression that I hadn't indulged in for a long time.

"I've never seen you smile like that," Ichigo whispered in awe. "You should do it more often."

"Perhaps…" I muttered, unable to wipe the smile away as I leaned in to kiss him. He responded eagerly, deepening it until we were both breathless and had to break apart. Silence fell as he looked into my eyes, soaking me in.

"Were you worried I'd leave you or something stupid like that?" he asked after a moment. I pulled away and grumpily went back to my book to hide my embarrassment.

"Of course not. I'd never be so foolish." He just chuckled, settling in and allowing me to snuggle up against him instead of the headboard.

"Really? Because it kind-of sounded like you were," he teased, leaning over to see what I was reading. It was some Shakespeare he'd lent to me. I didn't dignify that with a response, but he didn't seem to expect me to. Instead, we simply sat as we did every night, content in our silence.

***

_Thu-thump. Thu-thump. _

Slowly I opened my eyes as I woke up, comfortably nestled against Ichigo in our familiar tangle. I shifted slightly, jerking back violently as something cold and hard poked me in the side. Ichigo gasped a bit as he awoke with a start, startled eyes clouded with sleep searching for the disturbance.

"The hell?" he asked groggily, gently pushing me off and sitting up. I crawled under the covers in the direction of what had poked me, emerging holding my book from the night before.

"Just a book…" I showed it to him and he rolled his eyes, running his hands through his hair as he fell back on the pillows. As soon as he hit them he reached up and dragged me down with him, pulling me into a kiss. I straddled him, eager to respond as his hands tangled in my hair, drawing me closer as he captured my lips again and again. Blindly I ran my hands down his bare chest, feeling warm skin beneath my fingers as he deepened his kisses. I could feel him smirk as I moaned, yearning for even more contact. Just as his hands began to drift down to the waistband of my pajamas a sharp knock at the door interrupted us.

"Dammit," Ichigo mumbled as he crawled off the bed to open the door. Standing behind it was Abarai, looking no more pleased than Ichigo.

"Captain Ukitake wants t' see you two," he grumbled, gazing over Ichigo's shoulder at me sitting on the bed, still a bit ruffled. A small smirk replaced the grumpy frown on Abarai's face as he saw me staring impassively at him. "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

"No. Tell the old man we'll be there soon," Ichigo replied gruffly, though an almost un-noticeable blush had stained his cheeks at his friend's teasing. Rudely he slammed the door in the red-head's face, scowl now firmly in place.

"Hey, we should get ready," he said, turning to fish in his bag for some clean clothes. Sighing, I glanced at the odd assortment of clothes given to me since I'd gotten there. I hadn't exactly packed a bag when I'd left the mansion a week ago, seeing as I assumed I wouldn't be alive much longer, so Ichigo had lent me some of his. Unfortunately they were too big, so all I'd kept were the pajama pants, the rest of my wardrobe given to me by the much smaller Yumichika who waved away my thanks, explaining that "they're _so_ last season anyway."

Ichigo and I dressed quickly and in silence. Though I'd been there a week, I'd met very few of the captains and had no desire to meet any more. They were the people who'd first condemned then saved me, all within 24 hours, so I wasn't exactly sure how to act towards them. Besides, they always wanted to _talk_, something I wasn't overly fond of anyhow. Ichigo gently placed a hand at the small of my back as we walked down the hall to a room I'd never been in before. This bit of contact was his silent reassurance, something that was much needed as we stepped into the room and were faced with several people all looking up at us.

"Uh…hey," Ichigo mumbled in greeting to the seven people staring at us. They were clustered around a table so covered in papers the finish of it couldn't be seen, all people I'd met or at least recognized. Closest to the door was Renji, grinning at us, tiny Rikichi beside him and Rukia after that. The sickly man with white hair who, I realized with a shock, had sentenced me to death was seated by her, but he didn't look remotely upset that I lived. Rather, he had a smile that rivaled Rukia's in gentleness. Next to him, however, was the couple I'd seen upon first entering the bar, the bald man next to the feminine man who'd given me the clothes… Ikkaku and Yumichika were their names, I recalled.

"Hello," the white-haired captain greeted us. "Please come in and shut the door. Wouldn't want any prying eyes, now, would we?" We did as he asked, taking the only remaining seats right by Yumichika.

"Hmm…" the effeminate man mumbled, looking me over. "It looked better on me." Ikkaku glanced over, giving an obviously expected grunt of agreement judging from the pointed look his partner gave him. The captain chuckled lightly before his expression became apologetic, eyes meeting mine.

"Ulquiorra, please let me apologize for my actions at the trial. You must understand I was acting in what I thought was the best interest of the Soul Society and community at large." A pregnant pause followed during which all eyes were on me, seeing if I'd forgive the captain.

"As would I," I said, inclining my head. The group seemed to sigh, relieved the tension had been resolved.

"Thank you," he said graciously before turning back to the group, all business. "Now, what you see before you is all the evidence we have on Sosuke Aizen," he paused, glancing at me, "and family. The addition of your contributions, Ulquiorra, has been immensely helpful while we put our case together, and now we are mostly waiting for the opportune moment to press charges. Still, there is room for improvement. As you understand how he thinks better than most anyone, we would be honored if you would overview our case." I nodded deftly, wishing to get this over with as soon as possible. This was why I'd come here, to help them; why did they even bother asking?

Silence fell as a file was handed to me and I read it over, and all else sunk into the evidence, determined to beat him, Aizen, my _father_.

* * *

Autor's note: hey, kinda a short chapter, but I wanted to get something out for whoever's reading this. I'm super un-inspired right now, so sorry if the next chapter doesn't come for a bit. Oh, and happy Valentine's day!


	11. Live

Just a Number

"It's trash," I sighed. I'd been reviewing the case for an hour, reading over some of the reports and evidence then back to the case. The others had been waiting with baited breath for my prognosis, pretending to be busy organizing whatever evidence I wasn't looking at.

"Um…excuse me?" Ukitake asked, surprised as everyone else. Willing myself to be patient, I glanced once more over the case.

"The plan appears to be to offer evidence and pin him down for the murder of Shinji Hirako—who isn't actually dead, by the way—because that's the most straightforward option. But he knows too many people; the case would probably never make it to court due to some made-up technicality. It would be much wiser to press charges of corruption concerning Ichimaru Gin. He's been employed unofficially by my father for years, siphoning money and managing his embezzlement. Aizen would not sacrifice himself for Gin, though, so it would be fairly simple to convict him. Once Gin's guilt has been proven, it would be much easier to corner Aizen." Blank faces blinked back at me.

"Who's Aizen?" Ichigo asked innocently. I gazed around the table, unable to believe they didn't know who Gin was.

"None of you know?" The looks on their faces gave me their answer. Sighing, I pulled out a fresh piece of paper and labeled it "Ichimaru Gin." _The incompetence of the Soul Society never fails to amaze me,_ I thought, sighing again inwardly.

"Tosen and Gin both are my father's closest business partners, but he still considers them his subordinates. Gin, however, does not have a separate business like Tosen. He managed my father's accounts, legal and otherwise. Much of the time he lived in the mansion with us," I paused, envisioning that sly grin and those evil eyes. "Aizen had us call him Uncle Gin."

"Hey," Ichigo whispered in my ear. "You okay?" I nodded, quickly shaking myself from the memories.

"Well," Ukitaki started, looking around at all of us. "This does change things."

"Why can't we just charge him for organizing all of the murders he made you guys do? We have enough evidence," Renji asked, gesturing to the piled-down table.

"His connections," I repeated. "That's why it's so difficult—he knows too many people."

"But so we," Rukia spoke for the first time, looking pensive.

"That's true…" Yumichika muttered, shifting through the papers for the one he was looking for. "What about this?"

The paper he had pulled was a picture of something I'd spent a lot of time trying to forget—a blood-splattered crime scene, body a mangled pile in the center of a kitchen. That had been years ago, maybe five or six, and was by no means my first kill, but I had been much less experienced. It was supposed to be clean and quick, just to shut the guy up. He'd found out too much about the type of business my father ran and was planning on going to the police. My job was to go in, make sure he'd never speak again, and reclaim the evidence. Unfortunately, everything had gone horribly wrong.

"What bastard did this?" Ichigo growled, knuckles white as he gripped his chair.

"I did." My eyes were fixed on the picture, specifically the piece of paper crumpled in the corpse's hand. The day came back to me with much more clarity than I wished.

* * *

"Ulquiorra," Aizen called me as I passed his office. I froze, slowly turning back to face him. "Come here, please." I went, silently praying that he wasn't about to give me another assignment.

"There was a complication with the job you did earlier this morning." He paused, face blank as his eyes bored into mine. "I thought you knew the difference between dead and alive."

My stomach sank. _No_, I thought desperately. _He couldn't have survived. He was dead._ I'd shot him in the throat, not needing to worry about anyone knowing it was a murder that time. Admittedly I'd been aiming for his head, but his cat had darted out of nowhere as I shot—a bizarre twist of fate that would affect so much, though I didn't know it then. The man had died anyway, or so I'd thought, and I'd collected the faulty documents that showed a dramatic (and unexplainable) increase in the funds of a small business that was allied with us.

"I believed I did," I replied evenly, hiding my nerves behind a mask of indifference. It was then that he had pulled out that picture, obtained from a police man he'd long-since paid off, and I'd seen the smears and splatters of blood where he'd scrambled for a piece of paper and pen, scribbling what I could only assume was damning evidence before death claimed him.

"Apparently not. Do you have a guess as to what was written on that piece of paper?" he asked, eyes flashing dangerously. Carefully I shook my head. "No? 'Aizen's fourth.' That's what he wrote. _'Aizen's fourth.'_ Fortunately my people have cleared it up, so no investigations will be made. Still…that was sloppy, Ulquiorra, very sloppy. If you didn't have Uncle Gin to clean up after you, I don't know how we would have recovered. As it is…" he trailed off, now pulling a small slip of paper from his desk. At first I thought it was the evidence, but no blood stained its edges. Upon closer inspection, I read the neat calligraphy scrawled across it.

_Aizen—_

_Do not assume that you go un-noticed. You have fallen under the watch of the Soul Society. Tread carefully._

_Soul Society? What is the Soul Society? _That had been the beginning of it, of our rivalry. Aizen had been incensed that anyone would dare tell him to "tread carefully." The Soul Society forced us to be exceedingly cautious, and I had been the cause of it. My punishment was not something I cared to recall…the scars still stung, even those that couldn't be seen.

* * *

"You?" Ichigo asked in disbelief. I nodded numbly, still thinking of the repercussions of that day. I'd have never met him, never been here now had not that cat streaked across the kitchen at that particular moment. Such a tiny fragment of time, yet such huge impact.

"That was the action that alerted us to your presence," Ukitake muttered, gazing at me as though he'd never seen me before.

"How ugly," Yumichika added with a gesture to the picture.

"It wasn't supposed to turn out that way. I thought he was dead."

"Bet Aizen loved that. What'd he do to you?" Ikkaku grunted. I glared at him, making it very clear that I wasn't about to answer that question. Nervously I shifted my gaze to Ichigo, who had been quiet since affirming I'd been the one to commit this crime.

"I knew that you…but to see it…" he mumbled. Silently I took a deep breath, willing myself to forget there was anyone else in the room.

"I'm sorry," I said softy, taking his warm hand in my own cold one. His amber gaze met mine, confusion clouding his earnestly. He sighed softly, lowering his eyes.

"I went into this knowing who you were. Aizen made you capable of this, but I'm protecting you from him now." I nodded, used to his protective streak but grateful for his trust all the same. After a beat of taciturn communication, we turned back to the rest, hands clasped beneath the table.

"Obviously we won't incriminate you, Ulquiorra, but this _is_ a convincing bit of evidence. If he could get his people to drop it, we can probably get ours to pick it up again." I simply nodded, the room suddenly feeling very hot and small.

"Excuse me," I said softly, standing abruptly. Ichigo looked up imploringly, eyes meeting mine as I silently vanquished his worries. With a look he conveyed "Fine, go—but be back soon." How he said all that without even opening his mouth was beyond me.

Quickly I slipped out the door and into the hallway, longing for a breath of fresh air. It was so shocking to see that piece of my past, and (regardless of the impassive face I put on for Ichigo) it had shaken me to see it. I couldn't force memories of my punishment from my mind no matter how I tried. Countless nights had been spent nursing my wounds; countless meetings spent just sitting there taking it as Aizen delicately implied how I had failed. That murder was my fall from grace; no longer was I "Daddy's favorite." It had taken years to rebuild his trust in me, but I was forever disillusioned that he gave a damn about me or any of us.

Suddenly I looked up, realizing that I'd wandered as my thoughts consumed me. A blank door stood before me and I noticed I was at the end of the hall. This door must lead outside, I realized, to the alleyway behind the bar. For a moment I debated—go out and get some air or simply turn around and go back to Ichigo and the others. What were the odds that Aizen would be in that grimy alley? I hadn't told anyone where I was going and Aizen knew nothing of Gotei 13. Deciding it was most likely safe, I stepped into the alley. Immediately a rough, tanned hand I recognized only too well snatched my wrist, closing around it with a vice-like grip. Staggering backwards, I bumped into the chest of Grimmjow, feeling it vibrate as he chuckled.

"Knew you'd come out sometime," he growled in my ear, lips brushing it lightly. Fruitlessly I struggled, causing him to laugh once again as he came around to face me, binding my wrists with rope. "Looks like old man Aizen made a good choice in havin' me follow you." Bastard had me followed! I writhed against my bindings, digging in my heels as he began to drag me down the alley.

"You always were small, Cuatro," he chuckled, slinging me over his shoulder, helpless to struggle anymore.

"Let me free," I demanded, no force behind my words. I was in no position to bargain and we both knew it.

"No way. Aizen's pretty pissed at you already, runnin' off with your boy like that. Even _I'm_ not that dumb." I closed my eyes and let my head fall against his back, going limp. Ichigo and the others would probably think I'd left to betray them. Everything was ruined, all trust would be lost. Aizen would break me for doing this, for helping them. He wouldn't kill me—no, that would be mercy compared to what he _would_ do.

"Hey, you quit fighting pretty quick," Grimmjow noted, sounding just the tiniest bit concerned. Much as he always attempted to deny it, I was certain he liked me, even just as a worthy opponent. I didn't respond, hoping he'd think I'd fainted and leave me alone. Apparently it worked, because he remained quiet, slinging me into the back of what I assumed was a car. After a moment I heard my door slammed shut then his open and close. The rumble of the engine starting vibrated in my chest and I shifted where I lay as he drove out of the alley and away from my new "home." The whole ride I kept up my faux unconsciousness, willing myself not to think of how much this would hurt Ichigo.

He'd probably be blamed for my abandonment, blamed for convincing them to trust me. They'd think I tricked them, and he'd think I tricked him. Think I'd never loved him and had used him, and Aizen would keep me from ever correcting that misconception. Hopefully they had enough evidence to try him. Maybe they'd prosecute me, too. Somehow, I'd stopped caring.

Slowly I actually slipped out of consciousness, mind overwhelmed with all of the emotions and mental strain of the situation. When I woke up I'd been placed on a mat in a room I immediately recognized as the mansion's nursery. Bluish moonlight filtered in through the sheer curtains, taking me back to when I was very young, before I'd been given a name and a room. But a new generation inhabited these rooms, and I wondered why I had been put here. Why hadn't Aizen called me to him at once? Grimmjow must have taken some care to not wake me up, the kind of care that had to be specially requested. Why was he treating me as he had…Ah. He was treating me like a child. Let the punishment begin.

"Ooqui?" a soft, childish voice called out somewhere disturbingly close to my face. I blinked, bracing myself for the impact that always followed hat awful perversion of my name. Seconds later it came, five-year-old bundle of energy with green hair landing splay-legged on my chest with a small "oof."

"Nel is so happy that Ooqui is back! Hali isn't _near_ as nice to Nel as Brother Ooqui is!" the little girl cried, trying and miserably failing to quiet down as not to wake the other two children up. She was technically called "Third" and would be until she replaced the current third sibling, Tia Halibel. No one called her Third, though (least of all herself), instead opting for Neliel, the name her biological mother had given her. She couldn't pronounce it, so, just as she had for my own name, she shortened it. Though relegated to the nursery, she often managed to wander off and quickly discovered that "Brother Ooqui" wouldn't turn her in, making us fast friends.

"Yes, Nel, it is good to see you too," I calmly greeted her, gently rolling over and sliding her off so she wouldn't crush me. As soon as she was off she scooted around and snuggled up against me, big eyes locked on mine. "Why are you awake?"

"Nel couldn't sleep knowing Brother Ooqui was here."

"How did you know I was here?" I asked, allowing her to cuddle if only to help me forget where I really wanted to be or who I really wanted to be with.

"Stwarrk said so. He was in your room when Nel went to go visit you earlier. Are you dead?" she asked, voice filled with honest concern.

"No. Why do you ask?" I had an idea, but I was curious as to what had occurred in the hose since I'd left and how much she knew.

"Last week they said Ooqui was gone, not gonna come back anymore. Nel cried and cried! Biggest Brother Stwarrk said that Itsygo had killed you 'cause you loved him. Who's Itsygo?" Her simple understanding of things made me smile, but the expression that touched my lips was tinged with sadness.

"No one Nel," I murmured, nearly closing my eyes. They snapped open, however, when she hit me hard on the chest.

"Stupid Ooqui! Nel knows it's not 'no one,' so quit lying to Nel because Nel can tell you're upset! So tell Nel!" she screamed at me. I'd forgotten she could be like that, so violent and oddly perceptive. For a long moment she glared down at me from where she knelt, too riled up to lie calmly anymore.

"I went to go stay with him for a while because I didn't want to do what Aizen wanted me to anymore," I explained quietly. A momentary look of confusion crossed her tiny face before she lay down, gripping my shirt in her fists as she cuddled against me once again.

"Nel doesn't want Ooqui to go. Nel was lonely without her bwother Ooqui," she whimpered, exhaustion and the lateness of the hour obviously getting the better of her. Well, she _was_ only five.

"I won't be going anywhere for a long time, Nel. Aizen will make sure of that," I whispered, holding her close as she drifted off to sleep. My eyes would not close, however, as I wondered what was in store for me.

* * *

The comfort of sleep never claimed me, the night passing slowly without it. One thought kept resurfacing, pushing all others out of the way—there was no way out. I'd tried, I'd done all I could, given them evidence, faked my own death, yet nothing was different. Aizen wouldn't be convicted, and now he'd never let me out of his sight. If a simple mistake had lost his trust, deliberately giving evidence and support would irrevocably destroy my reputation with him. Not that I cared what he thought of me, but he would make my life hell for it.

As sunshine replaced the moonlight illuminating the room, a heavy feeling of acceptance fell over me. There was nothing the Soul Society could do to stop him, and even if they did, there was no reason to assume they would welcome me back with open arms. By the time the tiny woman who acted as a nanny for the children walked in, I had completely shut down. For the first time in my life, the impassive face I put on matched what I actually felt; the cold emptiness of my slight frown and vacant eyes reflecting true, honest stoicism. The nurse merely gaze down at me, unsurprised, no doubt warned of my presence beforehand, as she carefully extracted Nel from where she was still fiercely snuggling against me. Gently I handed the wiggling, sleepy child over to the nurse who then walked over to the other two beds against the opposite wall, rousing the other children.

"Mr. Ulquiorra, will you please help me with the baths?" the woman asked from across the room in a quavering voice. Clearly she was uncomfortable asking me to do such a menial task, and I supposed the only reason she did was because Aizen had asked her to. If it was supposed to anger me, it didn't. While I generally didn't like children, Nel was fine and cooperated nicely with me as I filled the tub with warm water and rubbed shampoo in her hair.

"Why does Ooqui never smile?" she asked me innocently as I wrapped her in a big, fluffy towel.

"One day you will see." This response confused her, of course; she was just a child. But one day she would be forced to figure out a way to deal with this life in order to survive, and maybe then she would understand mine.

"Stwarrk!" she suddenly cried out, seeing the relaxed man casually strolling into the bathroom. A grin cracked his face as he ruffled her hair.

"Hey there, kid," he greeted her, nodding more solemnly at me. "Aizen wants to see you."

I simply nodded as well, having been expecting this. In one fluid motion I rose, releasing Nel and taking a step away from Starrk towards the door.

"Bye bye, Ooqui!" Nel called after me. I nodded slightly, though she probably couldn't see me do it. The halls were silent that morning—no one was ever up any earlier than they had to be, and if they were, they certainly weren't lurking in the hallways. Once I reached Aizen's office and knocked, I was immediately let inside by a grinning Gin.

"Welcome back, Ulquiorra," Aizen said calmly from his usual seat at his desk, face impassive.

"Thank you, Father." Gin's grin widened.

"I am quite upset with you, Ulquiorra. You have gone against me."

"Yes, Father."

"Tell me Ulqui—did you see Tosen while you were there?" Gin chimed in, practically singing in his excitement. I gazed blankly at him for a moment before turning my attention back to Aizen, who had ignored him.

"This is your second mistake, Ulquiorra. That's two more than I'm willing to tolerate. Do you remember what happened after the last mistake you made?"

"Yes, Father."

"You have made quite the mess for your Uncle Gin and I to clean up. Do you understand that I must punish you for this?"

"Yes, Father."

"My, my, you sure are submissive, Ulqui. Is that the way little Ichi likes it?" This time I didn't even acknowledge him, but I saw his disappointment at my not taking his bate from the corner of my eye.

"Because it's your Uncle Gin who has to clean up your mess, it's only right that he should be the one to administer your punishment, don't you think?" My eyes widened a fraction as Gin's grin returned, but I couldn't let my fear show, instead only nodding once in response. "I will be asking you what you told them, but I think first it would be appropriate to allow Gin his time with you. We have all the time in the world to talk, but we must _beat _these bad behaviors out of you while they're still fresh on your mind. Gin?"

That awful grin stretched wider as Aizen handed him something from behind his desk: a thin, wooden rod. I'd seen it once before, after the first time I'd failed him. Gin vaguely waved a hand at me, twirling the rod in his other.

"You know what to do, Ulqui," he sang. Silently I removed my shirt and turned my back to him, catching a glimpse of Aizen's hardened expression as I did so. A high, thin whistling filled the air, followed by a sickening slap as the rod made contact with my exposed back. Pain shot through my system, racing up my spine before ricocheting back down.

"One," Gin crooned before the same whistling filled the air.

"Two." A pause as the pain spread.

"Three. Four. Five." Blood began to trickle down my back as Gin chuckled.

"Six, seven, eight!" They were coming faster now, pain and blood mingling in a searing criss-cross pattern on my back. At least the new scars would match the old.

After a while I stopped listening and lost count myself, allowing the pain to be all I knew. Once I had let go, the rest passed in a blur. Aizen at some point saying, "Enough;" Gin stopping but the pain lingering after; being escorted back to my room by rough hands that I knew belonged to one of my brothers, but I couldn't make out which. Finally I was left lying face-down on the bed in my cold room, a chill breeze from the open window making goose bumps rise on the raw flesh as my blood dried. I would clean my wounds tomorrow, I supposed, when they hurt less. But as much as the places where the switch had struck stung, no feeling was left inside to match, those wounds too deep to hurt.

* * *

Author's note: Is it just me, or was this chapter really creepy? And poor Ulquiorra. In psychology terms, he's experiencing learned helplessness. Anyway, just...two more chapters! This is the longest thing I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it!


	12. Die

Just a Number

"He hasn't spoken for a week!"

"That's what happens when you cross Aizen. He knew that."

"Yeah, I guess. But he's just so…"

"Broken? I know. He's always been a bit depressing, but this is just sad. All he does all day is trail around after Aizen or Gin."

Calmly I listened to the whispered conversation of two of my siblings; it didn't really matter who. They all were saying it, usually not even bothering to whisper. They knew I wouldn't do anything about it, so it didn't matter if I heard. Nothing mattered much to me.

Today I was in the library, quietly organizing some files Aizen had asked me to. The day after my punishment he had lain out the parameters for my being _allowed_ back in. I was no longer permitted to leave the house for any reason, my job basically reduced to that of a personal secretary. A good portion of my time was spent following Aizen or Gin copying down every little word that fell from their lips or filing reports and organizing papers that had stopped mattering before I was born.

Only one thing I had just overheard registered with me—it had been a week. All I had known was that time had passed; it had felt at once like an eternity and no time at all. Any hope that Ichigo might come for me had died. No one from the Soul Society had made any attempt to contact me as far as I knew, but then again, I knew very little. My privilege to contact the outside world had been suspended, all calls to me taken by Gin. He lorded information over me, telling me with joy that Saito had called and he'd informed her that he would be handling the adoption from now on. I could imagine her stricken face, how sad she would be, yet I let nothing of my emotions show. Gin would not get that pleasure from me.

So I assumed that he would have informed me if "little Ichi" (as he had taken to calling him) had called me, if only to rub in that I couldn't talk to him. Of course it may be just as fun for him to let me believe that Ichigo didn't care enough to try and call me, but either way it didn't matter. I couldn't speak to him, and even if I could, I'd be punished for saying what I wanted to. Aizen had informed me of this restriction the day after my punishment before relentlessly questioning me over what I'd told them and how they operated. I told him as little as I was able to, lying whenever possible. He would find out eventually and I would be punished for it, but I was willing to take that risk.

Other than that small act of defiance, though, I had quit fighting. I simply didn't see the point of it. Aizen had made me his lapdog, and there was nothing to be done about it. It was better if I just forgot Ichigo, forgot the Soul Society and the world outside and let Aizen erase any evidence that I had ever existed.

The sound of shattering glass broke my trance and I listened as those who had been talking about me stood and ran towards the source of the noise. I myself sat still, staring at the paper in my hand.

"What was that?" one of them asked, voice low.

"I don't know," the other voice answered urgently. "Let's go!" Footsteps raced away, tapping down the marble steps. I gave them a moment before looking up, cautiously standing and slowly going down the stairs after them. The second floor was abandoned, everyone having rushed down to the ground floor. Again I lingered, slowly making my way across the floor to the cramped maid's staircase. It birthed out in the laundry room downstairs, which I rushed through, stopping once I reached the kitchen. A commotion was coming from the foyer outside, voices muffled by the door. The sound of footsteps and hushed voices grew louder before halting a moment directly outside the kitchen's door.

"Which way?" a familiar voice asked, a man's.

"Just go in this one!" a female voice cried impatiently before the door was pushed open and three people tumbled in—Rukia Kuchiki, Renji Abarai, and…

"Ichigo," I breathed, voice hoarse with disuse and eyes wide. His gaze met mine, eyes fierce with determination. Renji stared openly at us, unmoving, but Rukia had the presence of mind to close the door.

"Ichigo," she hissed at him, pushing both men further into the room. "We need to move." He ignored her, all of his attention on me. I blinked, breaking the contact as I quickly turned, heading back to the laundry room.

"Come with me." The others hurriedly followed, all of us crammed in the tiny stairwell. I led them out into the hall after hastily checking to make sure it was clear first. Hesitating a moment, I quickly decided on the place the others would be least likely to look—Szayel's lab. The place was terrifying, located behind his room and built specifically with no windows. Though it was risky to enter at all, its many lab tables afforded several good hiding places, and the others wouldn't think to look there. Holding up a drop-cloth, I ushered them under a table covered with something Szayel was dissecting, ignoring the smell. As I turned to go, Ichigo's warm hand caught my wrist and held me there. I was powerfully reminded of once, long ago, when he had prevented me from leaving under very different circumstances. There was no time to reminisce now, though. If I didn't join the others soon, the already-suspicious Aizen would know I'd helped them.

"I didn't come here to hide under a table, Ulquiorra," Ichigo said, pulling me towards him. "I know you didn't come here willingly. I made a promise to protect you and I intend to keep it." Something stirred within me; something I'd thought had bled out with my beating. "Stay here. I'll be back," I muttered, pulling my wrist from his grasp. Not looking back, I raced from the lab, putting out the lights and shutting the door as I left. My blood was pounding in my ears as I followed the hallway down to the foyer. I had no plan, no idea what I was going to do with them after I'd hidden them, but somehow I knew that I had to do _something_. I at least owed them that. Calmly I made my way to where I knew Aizen would be. Just as I expected, he stood waiting in the foyer for his subordinates to report back to him. None of my siblings were in sight, probably having just been dispatched to search the house for the intruders.

"Father," I called to his back, causing him to turn and face me. A small smile graced his lips, but his eyes were so cold that the expression was not warming.

"Ah, there you are, Ulquiorra. Where have you been?" he asked me, voice pleasantly conversational.

"I was helping the intruders. They are hidden in the garden on the roof," I calmly answered him. I hadn't really been planning to lie; as I said, I had no plan at all. The words had simply tumbled from my mouth, but I couldn't say I felt sorry for it.

"Very good. I knew you had…reformed." I simply nodded, awaiting his orders. "Gin!" he called sharply. Gin slithered out from god-knows-where he'd been doing god-knows-what.

"Ulquiorra tells us that the intruders are on the roof. Go there and bring them to me. Also, inform Szayel of what we had previously discussed." Gin nodded, heading off up the stairs. "Ulquiorra," he turned towards me. "Please go round up your siblings. We will adjourn in the conference room as soon as possible." I nodded once, heading towards a loud crashing sound on the second floor. There I found Yammy stomping through Aaroniero's old room, presumably searching for Ichigo and his friends. _Our__ friends_, a tiny voice at the back of my head reminded me, the same voice that had convinced me to hide them in the lab instead of turning them in and lie about it to Aizen.

"Yammy." He turned towards me, mouth hanging open stupidly as he dropped the drawer he'd been upturning. "Please find everyone else and inform them that the intruders have been apprehended and we are all to meet in the conference room." He nodded, seeming a bit surprised to hear me speaking again, but he complied all the same.

After seeing to it that he had left the hall, I raced back to Szayel's room. It was exactly as I left it, I noted with relief. Silently I crept into the lab, flipping the lights on as I went and kneeling before the table I'd stuck them under. As soon as I'd lifted the drop, Renji sneezed with such force it propelled him backwards and made me stumble back in shock.

"Whew, sorry. Been holding that in for a while," he sighed, rubbing his nose. Ichigo and Rukia glared at him, Ichigo especially so.

"Hey, don't get your germs all over my—" he stopped short, giving me and uneasy glance, unsure of how to complete that statement.

"They believe you are on the roof," I cut across him, not really wanting to deal with the implications of his unfinished sentence just then. "But they will soon discover otherwise. Go now, quickly, and you can make it out." All three of them looked incredulously at me, Renji's mouth open in disbelief.

"We came here to rescue you, idiot!" Rukia finally came out with.

"No," I shook my head. "You don't understand. Aizen will find me. Does what has already happened teach you nothing? It's too late."

"_Bull_shit. You don't even try, so how can you say there's no hope?" Ichigo asked fiercely, eyes flashing.

"You're wasting time. They will kill you if they find you—"

"Ulquiorra, shut up. We're taking you with us whether you like it or not. Call it re-kidnapping, if you want!" Ichigo exclaimed, rolling his eyes. I opened my mouth to argue then shut it, realizing at the simultaneously the pointlessness of it and that, more than anything, I really did want to go with them. A cocky grin replaced the scowl on Ichigo's face as he realized he'd won, reading it in my expression. Finally I rose, the others crawling out from under the table to stand beside me before Renji, who was facing the door, froze, eyes wide.

"Oh silly Brother Ulquiorra. Did you really think that Father trusted you to be alone in your own house? It's such a shame you did, because you've led us right to them." A chill ran down my spine as an unmistakable cackle followed the already alarming speech. Slowly I turned to face the door where the very man whose lab we were currently standing in, casually flipping his pink hair as his laughter died down to a chuckle. Suddenly his eyes filled with delight as they landed on Ichigo. "Oh my, he _is_ handsome, Ulquiorra. What a _fascinating_ test subject he will be." Another cackle ripped from his disturbing smile as he stepped forward, making a show of pushing up his glasses to further "examine" Ichigo, effectively closing us in. We were cornered.

"It's four against one, freak," Renji pointed out, making Szayel's gaze snap to him as though noticing him for the first time. If possible, his smile widened, golden eyes glistening beneath his glasses.

"Don't fret on that, love. The others are coming, but I think _I_ shall take special delight in being the one to bring you to my dear father." Renji bristled at being called "love," nose wrinkling in disgust for the man who was clearly undressing him with his eyes.

"If you so much as—" he snarled, but was cut off as Grimmjow, Nnoitra, and Yammy all rushed in, Grimmjow not even pausing before pouncing on me, effectively pinning my arms to my sides before I could react.

"Ulquiorra! Get off him, you bastard!" Ichigo growled, taking a step toward us but being stopped by the huge Yammy, completely blocking the others from my view. Szayel had taken advantage of the confusion and Renji's divided attention to get behind him. The element of surprise and his extensive knowledge of incapacitating pressure points made overpowering the larger man a simple task, and Nnoitra took tiny Rukia down as she tried to help her struggling friends. Even Ichigo was wrestled to the ground by Yammy, crushed by his weight.

"There. That wasn't so hard now, was it?" Szayel asked cheerfully, stroking the now-unconscious Renji's cheek. "Let's go. We'd hate to be late; this meeting _is_ being held in your honor, you know."

Taking absolutely no care, they dragged us from the room, Ichigo shouting indignantly the entire time.

"Fucking _let_ _us_ _go_!" he yelled, kicking at Yammy, who seemed impervious to assaults both physical and verbal. "Who the hell do you think you are?! If you think we're gonna just do whatever the hell you want, you've got another thing coming! And you, blue-haired bitch—you had better get your hands off of him! Oi! Watch where you're dragging him. He's not a rag doll! I'll—"

"Ichigo," I interrupted calmly from my place in Grimmjow's crushing grasp. "Shut up. It's not helping anything." For a moment he looked at me like I was absolutely insane before his eyes softened and he fell silent. He remained relatively quiet throughout the rest of the trip, save for when we were dragged down the stairs, and I hardly blamed him for cursing when he stubbed his toe at the same moment that Szayel "accidently" dropped Renji, sending him tumbling. Finally we made it to the conference room, somehow all in one piece and basically uninjured.

Aizen sat at his place at the head of the table, mug of tea set before him, steam curling up before disappearing somewhere around his cold eyes and small, victorious smile. My other siblings where sitting in their usual places, several seats empty on either side of him. Briefly I glanced at my own vacant seat and something hardened within me—the understanding that I would never sit there again. Even if I lived through this, even if he tortured me and did his worst, I vowed never to sit there again. There _was_ hope, and as long as I still lived there was cause to keep fighting. With my newfound will I faced him, meeting his gaze with my chin held high.

"Bring them to me. I want to see them, this… trash," he commanded delicately, eyes boring into mine as he quoted me on my favorite word. We were pushed forward, Renji unceremoniously dumped on the floor at Azen's feet as he rose, calmly regarding the intruders now instead of me.

"You must be very foolish indeed to attempt to break in this house, especially for the sake of one so worthless."

"Don't talk about him like that," Ichigo spat at him, struggling against yammy's hold on him. Aizen took a step towards him, smile one of devilish delight.

"Ah, Ulquiorra's lovely boy. I shall take particular joy in killing you." _No_, I thought frantically, but I said nothing. His gaze shifted back to me, smile disappearing to a look of feigned sadness. As though he gave a damn. "Hm… it's too bad really. I tried so hard with you, Ulquiorra, in honor of your past loyalty, but it now appears that I have had no influence on you. You are no longer of any use to me, Ulquiorra."

This sentence meant only one thing, and I'd heard it many times. I knew what to expect as soon as he uttered it, a spell-like calmness falling over me. All thoughts of fighting where overshadowed by a strong desire to bow to the inevitable as I saw his hand disappear into his coat, reaching for cold metal. This _was_ fighting, in a way. I'd gone against him and lost, but instead of sniveling and trying to get back in his good graces, I stood defiantly. I welcomed death, even, if it meant rebelling against him, and the Soul Society would view me as a martyr. Cold hatred shone in those eyes which I boldly met until the barrel of a gun was all I could see. This was it—the end I'd thought of so often throughout my life and just as often brought to others. In the tiny fraction of time before I heard the click of the trigger, I was randomly reminded of an equally tiny fraction of time that I'd long-since forgotten but came back to me now. It was when I was very young, gazing out the window as I was driven somewhere, and I caught sight of a boy with vibrantly orange hair sitting in a clinic, and I'd wondered who he was…

_Bang!_ The shot rang out, but I felt none of the pain I'd been expecting. My eyes, which I hadn't even realized I'd closed, shot open to see Ichigo falling onto Aizen, the gun clattering to the floor as Ichigo did what could only be described as… beating the _shit_ out of him. In a fit of utter confusion I spun to see Rukia knee her captor in the groin as the apparently newly conscious Renji flung himself at Yammy. Then everything blurred, and all I could see or understand was the gun lying before me and the fact that my father had just tried to kill me with it. Just like I'd killed so many, just like he taught me to. "Pull the trigger," he'd told me, "and it's done."

Before I really understood what I was doing, I'd snatched up the familiar weapon and calmly told Ichigo to move, now. Hatred for the man lying motionless but fully aware before me bloomed in my chest, replacing anything else I may have felt and silencing all else. Ichigo scrambled away, seeing my intent, so that it was just Aizen and me, the only people in the universe.

"Ulquiorra, don't do this," he commanded, not pleading. As though I gave a damn.

"Tell me why not. You have destroyed me, as well as countless others. You are a murderer and abuser and worthy of nothing." Years of hate and abuse flashed through my mind, most too painful to remember. My finger tightened on the trigger. He'd tried to kill me, tried to crush my spirit and take all from me that mattered. Tried to take_ Ichigo_. At that thought, the decision was made for me, and there was only one thing to do.

I shot him.

Suddenly the rest of the world came racing back as I remembered I was in a room full of people. All motion was stilled, all struggling stopped as every single eye in the room widened, all gazes on me. My own eyes were widened in horror as I saw what I'd done, blood leaking from under Aizen where I'd shot him point-blank in the heart. He was dead. Gone. This was over, everything was. I was free.

"Ulquiorra?" Ichigo breathed from behind me and I spun to face him. This was his fault! I'd done this, all of this because of him. I did everything for him, took every breath for him and every step for him. It wasn't his fault; it had been my choice to meet him for dinner that first night, to support his father's clinic, to leave Aizen for him. All of these choices had been my own, and I'd known what I was doing every step of the way. Tears of relief and love and… utter abandon began to spill down my cheeks, true tears mingling with the ink markings for the first time since my infancy. _It is done_, I kept repeating to myself, just to make it real, but it was too much to take in. All I could do was stand there and cry pitifully, like the lost little child I was, the one that had never been comforted.

Suddenly the stillness of the room broke as I continued to weep uncontrollably. Ichigo came forward and scooped me into his arms, pressing me into his shoulder as I lost my self in his warm embrace, sobs wracking my body. I felt so small there, so protected and safe and _home_. He was my home, I knew as he cradled me close, rubbing my back and blocking out reality for a moment. There would be a harsh reality to face soon, but just for that moment I allowed myself to luxuriate in the arms of the man I'd killed for, my home. This was right, I knew. Everything would be alright.

* * *

Author's Note: This is sort-of the last chapter. The actual last one will be the epilogue, but this is basically it. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	13. Free

Just a Number

Looking back on it now, much later, that day is a blur, everything fuzzy after Ichigo let me go, wiping away my tears and snot with his sleeve, then getting the other one involved until both his sleeves were soaked and my face was dry. Dimly I was aware of someone grabbing my arm and gently pulling me away. It was loud there, I think, voices echoing around the marble foyer, voices I recognized. As I was pulled away I saw people I vaguely remembered as my "siblings" speaking to two others, Renji and Rukia, I think. I knew I was supposed to be worried, but they didn't appear hostile, so I couldn't bring myself to it. I couldn't really bring myself to feel much of anything in particular, just a dull throb of shock and heaviness and a million other things that all swirled together until none were distinguishable. Then I felt nothing at all.

* * *

Pale skin, emerald eyes, raven hair—my appearance, reflected back to me as I stared into the mirror in one of the Kurosaki's bathrooms. In my hand I held a pot of teal ink and a sable brush, yet I did nothing but simply stare. Pale skin, emerald eyes, raven hair. Porcelain cheeks and thin lips—porcelain cheeks devoid of their usual markings and thin lips drawn into a frown. All of my actual tears two days previously had washed away the ink, which I had noticed once I dragged myself from the bed I'd been stewing in since Aizen's death. Automatically, perfunctorily, I'd grabbed the ink and brush from under the sink where I'd left it ages ago.

_"Why do you have to leave your makeup over here? What if one of my sisters or my idiot father finds it? I don't wanna deal with the kinds of questions that would raise," Ichigo had complained as he watched me stash the ink and brush under his sink. _

_"It's not makeup. It's ink." Ichigo rolled his eyes, scoffing. He always called my ink tracks makeup. "And your family will not find it. This is your bathroom, is it not?" I got up from my crouch, walking back over to where Ichigo lie on the bed. He gazed up at me, scowling, still unsure if my leaving my things at his place was a good idea._

_"Hey, if you're leaving stuff over here, then it's kind of like…" he trailed off, catching the warning look flash across my face. Suddenly he burst out laughing, rolling over onto his belly as he did so. I rose an eyebrow, sighing at his antics, though I was used to them. Finally he quit laughing and straightened up, grin sill lighting up his features. _

_"I just realized…" he gasped out, a bit out of breath. "You wear that stuff all the time, right? And you're a business man, so for meetings and stuff…" _

_"Hn. You are insane, Kurosaki," I'd said, secretly loving it._

But I didn't have to _secretly_ love anything about him anymore. Aizen was gone, allowing me to shed tears again, and feel again… the great oppressor was gone. There was no need to compensate for my inability to have emotion with painted-on feeling anymore. Slowly I lowered my eyes to gaze at the ink and brush, my only outlet for so long. And just as slowly, but with no regret, I dropped them into the trash bin, hearing the resounding "clunk" when they hit the bottom.

I was free.

Calmly, my face a perfect mask as ever, I walked from the bathroom to Ichigo's empty room. This was my home now, he'd told me, if I wanted it to be. At night I'd curl into bed with him holding me close, murmuring that everything would be fine, he promised. Yesterday he stayed with me all day, though we shared no words. He simply lie there with me, there if I needed it but unobtrusive. Besides that, there was a physical need for it. We'd both been through a lot and were exhausted by it.

But this morning he'd gently awoken me, telling me that he had to go back to work and would be right downstairs if I needed him. Take your time healing, he'd said, then gently kissed me and stepped away. I'd drifted off then, still tired and confused. All my life I'd been trained to love Aizen and show him nothing but unquestioning loyalty. In a matter of months, I'd gone from reigning favorite to murdering traitor, all due to Ichigo. How could I thank him?

Deeply I breathed in the scent of the man who had changed my life—saved it, in fact—and gazed around what was now _our_ room. Sitting on the desk was a pile of Yumichika's clothing, for "whenever you're ready," Ichigo had said. At the time I hadn't even glanced at them to see what he was talking about, but now I picked them up, heading back to the bathroom to shower and prepare to re-enter life. That was the only way to repay him for all he'd done for me; it felt ridiculous to dwell on the past when here in the present I had so much.

Taking my time, I scrubbed the last few days off of my body, erasing the scent of my previous home from where it still lingered in my hair. Now I would smell of the Kurosaki household, of him. _As it should be,_ I thought, satisfied that I would feel a part of this place. Carefully I dried myself then dressed, noting with distaste how flamboyant the man's clothes were. I'd have to go out and get some of my own, later. I could go back to the mansion is I wanted to gather my belongings, I'd been told, but I's have to be escorted by a member of the police in order to ensure that I didn't disturb the crime scene.

Last night, after a day of silent languor, Isshin had come in (more composed than I'd ever seen him) to explain that I would have to go to court for the murder of Aizen, but only as a technicality. We were going to plead self-defense, which Isshin insured me there was plenty of evidence to prove. He also requested that, once I was feeling more myself, I testify against Gin on charges of torture, child abuse, and embezzlement. As for my dear siblings, they were awaiting trial, some contrite while others less apologetic. I really couldn't care less what happened to them, as long as it happened away from me.

And it seemed that Ichigo would make sure of that, assuring me that I would only have to be as involved as I wanted to be in Gin's case and that Aizen's could be put off for a while if that's what I needed. While I appreciated his well-meaning, I intended to get this entire thing over with as soon as possible. Now ready, I quietly padded out of the room and down the stairs to where I could hear voices coming from. Sitting behind the desk was Ichigo, speaking with a patient who had just walked in. Suddenly he fell silent, noticing that the man he was talking to was looking over his shoulder at me. Quickly he stood and spun around, striding towards me with a concerned look on his face.

"Ulquiorra." I blinked, looking pointedly from him the patient he had just abandoned, but it seemed he either didn't catch my drift or didn't care. Knowing him, it was both. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Ichigo. Now go take care of that man before your father fires you." He scoffed, looking unconvinced.

"You sure you're alright?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now go, we can talk after you do your job." Ichigo sighed then turned back to his desk, signing the man in and showing him to one of the examination rooms. As soon as he was done he went back to his desk, perching on it to face me where I sat in his chair.

"So…" he started, scrutinizing me as though looking for injury.

"I'm fine, Ichigo, really. Quit worrying."

"When it comes to you, never," he said with a slight, honest smile. Sliding from his desk, he knelt by me, taking my face in his hands and kissing me gently. I closed my eyes and leaned into the kiss, our first real one since he had rescued me.

"My second son has returned to this world!" Isshin exclaimed, effectively ruining the moment as Ichigo sprung away from me, blush accompanying his scowl.

"Yes, Mr. Kurosaki. Thank you for your hospitality," I greeted him with a slight bow, having stood on his arrival. It seemed he had discovered my relationship with his son (which, to be honest, he'd have to have been an idiot not to. I was sleeping in his bed, for heaven's sake) and had no issue with it. Though that _was_ the first time he'd called me his second son. As soon as my cordial greeting had left my lips the air got knocked out of me as Isshin enveloped me in a giant bear hug. My eyes went wide as I stiffened, sucking in a tight breath of air.

"Welcome to the family, son!" he cried loudly, squeezing me tightly before finally releasing me and moving towards Ichigo who stumbled backwards, shoving him away.

"No way, crazy old man!" he yelled, scrambling away as his father advanced. Their little scuffle almost masked the sounds of the phone ringing, but I heard it, picking it up as I was closest and the others were… distracted.

"Hello?"

"Ulquiorra? Is that you?" a panicked female voice greeted me; Kaida Saito.

"Yes. Is this Kaida?" I asked calmly, though my heart fluttered at the sound of her nervous voice. Recently so much had been overwhelming me that I'd not allowed myself to think of Saito's unborn child, but now that I was reminded…

"It's so good to hear from you! Because when I called before, at first you weren't picking up at all and then there was some creepy guy that said you were really sick and he was taking over the adoption 'cause you'd probably be dead by the time the baby was born so I got really depressed but then I realized I could call Ichigo, so I did," she spurted out, gasping for breath by the end of it.

"Be calm, Saito. I have… recovered from my illness. Are you alright?"

"Uh-huh, I'm okay. Except for that my water just broke."

"Excuse me?" I asked, sending Ichigo and his father a glare to shut up. They did, freezing in place and staring at me.

"That's why I called. Either I wet myself or my water broke."

"Where are you?"

"On my way to the hospital. A friend is driving," she added quickly, presupposing the question I was about to ask.

"Good. We're on our way," I told her, sharply hanging up and turning to face the other two who were still frozen.

"Kaida Saito has gone into labor." Ichigo gasped and ran over to me while Isshin just looked confused.

"Are you sure? Was that her?" he asked. I nodded, already starting to the stairs.

"I told her we would be at the hospital. Let's go." Ichigo followed me, looking determined as he left his still-confused father in his wake.

"Who's Kaida Saito?"

Ichigo drove us to the hospital, that same set, determined look on his face as though he were driving towards his death. Though my calm mask never faltered, anticipation and anxiety welled in me. I was about to be a parent. Was I? The only reason I was going to adopt the child was because I was acting on the orders of a man who was now dead. It would be absolutely ridiculous for me to raise her. I knew nothing about children and had no desire for them. Yet that thought was unsettling to me somehow; it felt untrue.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Ichigo asked as though he had read my mind.

"I…I'm not. I don't even have a place to live, and I don't know anything about raising a child—"

"You do have a place to live, idiot. How many times do I have to tell you, you live with me. And no one knows what they're doing when they first have kids, so that's not a good reason either. I'm asking if you _want _to do this." This silenced me and I thought for a moment, thought about my own childhood and my future. I had always been alone, unwanted from the moment I was born and merely kept around until I had expended my usefulness. I was better than Aizen; I could do better than him. That child deserved love.

"Would you help me?" I asked softly, ashamed to show such weakness. Ichigo glanced at me, taking his eyes from the road for a moment. His brown eyes were soft, full of that emotion I would never be able to show openly but defiantly could feel—love.

"Of course," he said, turning his attention back to the road as we pulled into the hospital. "We'll do this together." I nodded in appreciation, taking a deep staying breath as he stopped to let me out.

"I'll meet you in there," he told me, driving away to park as soon as I'd shut the door.

Quickly I rushed through the automatic doors and the scent of antiseptic hit me, that awful hospital smell, along with a wave of sound. Trying to remain as stoic as usual (but finding it exceedingly difficult for some reason) I strode over to a nurse who was sitting behind a desk and enquired after Saito. After the man had told me which room she was in I strode to the elevator, joining the throng of people clamoring inside. Beside me stood a woman holding onto a baby. Usually I'd have looked away with distaste, but now I stared openly at the child, reflecting that soon I'd have my own version of this drooling, pooping creature to take care of.

"Excuse me," the woman holding the child said, clearly noticing I was staring her baby down. "Are you here to visit a new mommy?" This uncommonly friendly woman's surprisingly apt comment at first caught me off guard; until, of course, I remembered I was in the maternity ward.

"I'm a father," I replied, shocking even myself. Usually I wouldn't have given out any personal information, so that alone was strange, but nothing jarred me more than what I'd said. A father—me. Mr. Cold and Emotionless himself was being given a child, someone to care for for the rest of my life.

"Congratulations," she said with a surprised smile as we filed out onto the delivery floor. Quickly I strode to the room that the nurse downstairs had told me, pausing briefly on the threshold. I must have been standing there for a bit longer than I thought, though, because suddenly Ichigo appeared at my side, panting lightly.

"What are you doing?" he asked me, looking concerned.

"Nothing."

"Well, then, come on," he ushered me forward, placing a hand at the small of my back to nudge me into the room.

"Ulquiorra, Ichigo—thank God you're here!" a disheveled Saito cried as soon as we'd entered. A young girl I'd never seen before sat beside the bed Saito was lying in, hugely pregnant and looking none too comfortable. Already a bit of sweat was making her hair cling to her face and the strain of her contractions was showing.

"How far are you dilated?" Ichigo asked, the doctor in him brought out by the circumstances.

"Five centimeters," Saito panted, a pained look coming across her face as she gripped the hand of her friend. "I think another one is coming on. Ouch! Ouch ouch ouch!" As she rode out the pain, clinging to her friend, the young girl gave Ichigo and I a pointed look that clearly said "Come here." Without thinking I complied, Ichigo right beside me.

"It's okay," he was saying, "It'll be over in a minute. You're fine." I stood awkwardly, having no idea what to do. Feeling strange, I placed one of my cold white hands over her free hand, which was startlingly warm.

"Th-thank you," she stuttered as the contraction passed, letting go of her friend's hand but not letting me retract mine. "Oh, I forgot; Ichigo and Ulquiorra, this is Raisha, my best friend. Raisha, these are the guys who are adopting my baby." Raisha, a plain-looking girl with small eyes but a friendly enough smile, nodded her greeting at us. "The adoption agency guy should be coming soon, too. Don't worry, I didn't tell him about Ichigo." Ichigo thanked her quickly; if the adoption agency would have found out it was two men adopting the baby, it would have been illegal and we wouldn't have gotten her.

"Now we just wait," Ichigo said, sitting in another chair that was placed nearby. And wait we did, for hours, watching contractions come and go as well as the kindly OB/GYN that we'd met before. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, she came in once more to measure how far dilated Saito was and looked up at us with a smile.

"Ten centimeters. We're going to start pushing now. This is going to be very stressful on the mother and it's going to get a bit crowded, so please, just one person in here with us now," she informed us, preparing herself to deliver the baby. Four sets of eyes latched onto mine, making it clear that the popular vote of who was to stay was defiantly me.

"Okay Mommy and Daddy, are we ready?" the doctor asked. Saito nodded vigorously, though all I wanted to do was turn tail and run.

"Okay. One, two, three—push!" Saito screamed in pain as she gave her first real effort at it, clutching to my hand so tightly I thought it would break.

"Push!" Another scream, and the tightening of her grip. If waiting for her to be fully dilated was bad, this was hell, though I knew it wasn't nearly as bad for me as it was for her. A couple of times Ichigo popped in to check up on us, flitting out as soon as the doctor told him to. Just when I though both Saito and I would drop to the floor, the doctor said, "She's crowning. Just a few more pushes, you're almost there."

Moments later a shrill crying filled the room and my eyes widened, taking in my daughter for the first time. She was grey and slimy and covered in blood and so, so tiny. She looked more fragile than anything I'd ever seen before, wailing at the top of her lungs, umbilical cord freshly cut and a nurse wiping her off. Saito craned her neck to see the baby once then closed her eyes, a few tears leaking out.

"Don't poop out on me quite yet, Kaida. You still need to push out the placenta. Daddy, you want to go tell the other Daddy that you have a little girl?" I nodded, excusing myself in a daze. Quietly, calmly, I stepped into the waiting room. Ichigo immediately stood along with another man who must have been the social worker. Mindful of this, I tried to keep my voice down when speaking to Ichigo, who looked worried.

"We... have a girl," I said, still in shock. Ichigo grinned, wrapping me up in a hug that I hoped looked friendly from where the balding social worker was standing. Breaking away from him reluctantly, I walked over to the man, who bowed politely. I returned the gesture then stood back, waiting for him to speak.

"Hello. I'm Osaka Hinoru, and I'm handling your adoption. Kaida has requested an open adoption, as she has informed me you agreed to, so she will be involved in the child's life, but it's better if she doesn't see her for a few months just at first. For this reason, the baby will be removed from her room as soon as possible and placed in the nursery. Now I need you to sign some things and give me the child's name so that I can finish up all of the paperwork and you can be with your baby." I nodded, walking over to him and signing the papers he had on a clipboard.

"Great. Usually this is a lot more complicated, but you've been very efficient about it. You seem very responsible. Um, the child's name, please?" Ichigo cast me a curious glance; though we had spoken of the baby, I had never mentioned any possible names to him. As far as he knew, I hadn't even been thinking about it.

"Mamiko Takara Schiffer," I answered promptly. Ichigo's eyebrows rose, but he smiled softly. The social worker nodded appreciatively at my choice, writing it down on the birth certificate and paperwork.

"Congratulations," he said warmly. "Now all that's left for you to do is raise her!" Chuckling at his own joke, he shook my hand and walked away, instructing me as he did so to call him if I had any problems.

"Excuse me?" a nurse caught my attention, tapping lightly on my shoulder.

"Yes?"

"The baby is ready in the nursery. You can see her now." I nodded, turning to Ichigo with a silent plea for support. He came forward, walking beside me as we followed the small nurse to a bright, clean room full of plastic hospital cribs with cheesy Noah's ark wallpaper on the walls. In each crib was a color-coded infant, blue for boys and pink for girls. At the end of the last row was a plastic crib with a card labeled "baby girl Schiffer." For a moment I simply stared at the card, but then Ichigo tugged slightly on my arm, whispering, "Look," into my ear.

Mamiko was asleep, squirming slightly, tiny little feet and hands clenching slightly. She was so new to the world, face scrunched up and black wisps of hair still stuck to her head. Again it hit me how fragile she was, like anything could break her, yet the steady clenching and unclenching of her hands told me she was strong.

"Um, I know you already told the social worker her name, but if you tell me I can make her a proper name card," the nurse said, smiling nervously. I hardly heard her, so entranced I was in the tiny new life that was now my responsibility.

"Mamiko Takara," Ichigo answered for me. The girl nodded then stepped out to make a new card, stealing one last glance at us before she left.

"She's so small," Ichigo said, tentatively reaching out a hand to stroke her own miniature one. She clenched onto his finger, making him start a bit in surprise. Before I could help it a smile reached my lips.

"I can't believe that she's our daughter," I muttered, the words so odd in my mouth. Ichigo turned towards me, smiling as he wrapped his other arm around me. Slowly, carefully, I stretched out my fingers and rested them against her soft cheek, letting them linger there as we stood; a family.

* * *

Author's Note: Here it is! I'm thinking of doing a ten years later sort-of chapter too, but I don't know. I have a lot more material that just didn't really fit, so I could do it, if the reviewers want it (hint, hint). Also, if you have any questions, send me a message, and I'll try to answer you. Thank you so much to all those who've reviewed and put up with the long wait. You guys really make a difference! Thanks again and happy reading!


	14. End

_Ten Years Later_

"Do you have your lunch?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Is your sweater in your backpack?"

"Yes."

"Do you have all of your books?"

"Dad, I'm going to be late!" Mamiko wined at me, wiggling a bit beneath her backpack straps.

"You'll be fine, kid. Give your dad a kiss so we can go," Ichigo said, keys in hand. Mamiko obeyed, standing on her tiptoes to peck my cheek and hugging my neck as she did so. While I by no means asked for this show of affection, Ichigo could see well enough that I wanted it and had no qualms asking for me. After all, fourth grade could be very unforgiving. It was only natural for me to be a bit anxious about it (though for some reason Ichigo thought it wasn't, resulting in his newest nickname for me—mother hen).

"Love you, Dad," Mamiko said as she detached herself from me.

"I love you too, Mamiko. Have a good day." She nodded, running over to the door and waving goodbye to me one last time before opening it and stepping out onto the street.

"I'll see you in at the clinic," Ichigo mumbled, planting a quick kiss on my lips just as Mamiko poked her head back inside.

"Guys! You can be gross later. I'm gonna be late!" she exclaimed with impatience that she must have picked up from Ichigo. The man in question simply smiled, chuckling a bit before kissing me once more just to annoy her then heading out the door, Mamiko leading the way with a huffed, "Finally!"

Once I was alone, I allowed a small smile to ghost my lips as I walked from the entryway back to the kitchen. It was a mess from the breakfast I'd prepared earlier as well as from making Mamiko's lunch. Quickly I set about cleaning up, wanting to be done quickly so I could head over the Kurosaki clinic. Seven years ago we'd moved out, much to Isshin's (loudly expressed) displeasure, but each day we went back, Ichigo as a doctor and me filling his old position as book keeper. Originally I'd not planned to work, but once Mamiko entered kindergarten, I'd found myself alone in an empty house with a lot of time on my hands. At that point Ichigo was still acting as secretary at the clinic, talents and schooling wasted as he filed papers and signed patients in. Me taking his place made sense, and Isshin was quick to agree to it ("The family legacy is continuing!") so the switch was quickly made.

True, I'd fallen into a domesticity I would have found disgusting a few years before, but I am actually happy with my family. Of course there are difficulties that we face as a same-sex couple with a child, but we find ways around it. Mamiko takes it all in stride, her energy reflecting that of her mother. For instance, to avoid the confusion of having two fathers, she calls me Dad and Ichigo Daddy, though when she was very young she called me Mommy, which Ichigo found hilarious. I was considerably less amused. Gender confusion aside, things had settled into a comfortable normal.

Once the kitchen was clean, I straightened up my clothing and set out to the clinic, which was just the street over from our home. It seemed that in order to make up for our total lack of contact with my family (most of whom were in jail), we were over-compensating with Ichigo's; we worked with them, were practically neighbors, and we had dinner with them at least once a week. Yuzu and Karin were like big sisters to Mamiko, and between them and Isshin she was surrounded by so much love, she would never be in want of it.

Smiling softly at that thought, I unlocked the clinic, ignoring the closed sign. I'd turn it around when the clinic opened in a few minutes, but until then I liked the knowledge that it was just Kurosakis, away from prying eyes. The need for privacy that had been ingrained in me from a young age still existed, though I put it aside to act as secretary. As soon as I stepped into the blissfully quiet office, however, it tended to become otherwise, and today was no exception.

"Hey Ora, that you?" Ichigo yelled from the other room, striding in a moment later.

"Of course it is." He grinned, swooping in for another small peck on the lips.

"Squee! You guys are _so_ cute!" a high-pitched female voice interrupted us. _Shit._ I'd forgotten that the twins would be at the clinic today. Yuzu was a kindergarten teacher at a school that was off today, and Karin was in town for a short visit.

"Yuzu, what—" Ichigo started, eyeing his now-grown little sister who was currently gazing at us like we had fallen from heaven.

"I mean, it's been, like, ten years, and you two still act like you just got together! It's just adorable!" she went on, showing no signs of stopping. "And you work together, and you have the cutest little girl, and…"

"Geez, Yuzu, quit fangirling over your brother. It's creepy," Karin cut in. My head snapped to her where she leaned on the doorframe, hands in pockets and looking more like her older brother than she'd ever admit to.

"Aw, Karin, you're no fun! Don't you think they're cute?"Yuzu pouted, turning to face her very non-identical twin.

"Sure. Almost as cute as that hobo in the park who talks to pidgins."

"Uh… hi, guys," Ichigo said awkwardly, stepping away from me. Though a grown man, he had never really outgrown his shyness around his family when it came to showing affection.

"Hey Ichi. Mami at school?" Karin asked, stepping forward to slap him on the back.

"Yeah."

"Are you going to the meeting she has with the principle at two?" I asked suddenly, remembering the note she had come home with yesterday.

"Today?" he asked stupidly, momentarily forgetting his sisters. I barley suppressed the urge to roll my eyes at his stupidity.

"Of course today. I told you yesterday that I couldn't get someone to fill in for me," I reminded him as comprehension gradually lit his eyes.

"Uh, right…"

"Um, Ichi-nii, Ulquiorra-nii," Yuzu cut in nervously, "I could fill in for you and that way you both could go." I looked expectantly at Ichigo, who I was sure would reject the idea.

"Okay. I'll run that by Dad." He still surprises me after ten years—_occasionally_.

* * *

"Um… why are we here?" Ichigo asked, sitting beside me in the empty principal's office. Wordlessly I handed him the note scribbled on a small, crinkled, yellow piece of paper.

"Would the parents of Mamiko Schiffer-Kurosaki please come for a meeting with Principle Nara at 2:00 tomorrow to speak about her recent disobedience. She has violated the school rule against fighting three times," it read in neat, practiced cursive.

"I blame this on you."

"What?" he squawked indignantly, looking around guiltily once he realized how loud he had been.

"This is a habit she learned from you." He had been a bad example in this area since her birth, often causing a scene when we were insulted for being so open with our lifestyle.

"No it's not. I told her that only Daddy is allowed to beat up ass holes who say bad things about you or her."

"Oh, yes, that has clearly been affective."

"Hey! It's not like she's killing people. She's only ten!"

"That's entirely—"

"Um…" someone cleared their voice, interrupting our bickering. We both turned to see the principle walking in, a middle-aged woman with a tightly coiled bun of black hair. With purposeful strides she walked to her desk, sitting down to face us where we were perched on two stiff-backed chairs.

"Hello Mr. Schiffer," she said, looking at Ichigo. "Mr. Kurosaki," she said to me.

"Er, I'm Kurosaki, but you can call me Ichigo," Ichigo awkwardly pointed out. We had this problem often.

"Oh, excuse me," she said, seeming totally unflustered. Something told me it would take a lot to shake her.

"Mrs. Nara, we'd like to apologize for our daughter's behavior."

Sharply she turned to me, brown eyes pinning me under her gaze. "Thank you, Mr. Schiffer, but I'm afraid that won't be enough. Mamiko has gotten in three fights within the last month. We cannot let that slide."

"Of course. What can we do for her?" I asked, wanting nothing more than to get out of here as quickly as possible.

"Hm…You look familiar. The name is very familiar, too. What do you do?" she asked, catching me completely off guard with her sudden subject change.

"I work at the Kurosaki Medical Clinic."

"That's not it."

"Maybe it's that he used to be an Aizen," Ichigo interjected darkly, mouth set in a scowl. Though he hated reminding anyone of my past (least of all himself), it was more painful to wait around for someone to get it so he tended to speed up the process.

"Ah, yes, so he did. That was very public, wasn't it, about ten years ago?" The calm reaction was surprising, but it did confirm my assessment that it would take a lot to shake her. At least she didn't immediately recoil, like some, or treat me like I was a murderer. Which technically I was, but why fixate?

"Yes," I answered stiffly.

"I have a nephew who met you. He spoke very highly of you. Perhaps you remember him—Rikichi?" For a moment I looked at her, a bit surprised to hear of the relation. Despite the fact that Ichigo had given up his duties as a Soul Reaper, we remained close to the Soul Society, Ichigo treating their wounds and both of us retaining our bonds with the people we knew, our friends. In fact, I had spoken to Abarai less than a week ago about Rikichi, who had gotten married and just had his first child, of course naming the unfortunate _girl_ Renji. "I'm honored and all," he'd told me, "But, I mean…poor kid."

"Yes," I told the principle, elbowing Ichigo who was staring at her with his jaw handing down idiotically. "I heard he recently had a child?"

"Yes," she said, icy demeanor warming. "A girl named Renji. I believe you know her namesake as well?" Ichigo chuckled beside me.

"A bit too well, I think…" Renji, I had learned shortly after my rescue from a giggling Rukia, was involved with Captain Kuchiki, her elder brother. We often had Abarai and the younger Kuchiki over for dinner (Mamiko called Rukia "Aunt" and Renji "Uncle"), so recently we invited Captain Kuchiki over as well. The evening had been, in a word, a disaster, and Renji still blushed until his face matched his hair when he saw us because of something or another that had occurred. So many potentially mortifying things happened that night for Renji that it's difficult to know exactly which one of them made him blush.

"Well, he's such a vibrant and open person; it's hard not to feel like you know him as an old friend, yes?" It was sort-of sweet, actually, to see how hard the woman was trying to be supportive of her nephew's choice of idol.

"Uh… yeah. So, anyway, about Mami…" Ichigo ventured, glancing at his watch. Yuzu was filling in for me, but there were no other doctors to take his place, so he really did need to return to the clinic shortly.

"Ah, yes. Well, I suggest having her speak to the school's counselor about ways to handle her anger. Also, we believe this would be a good opportunity for her to speak with someone about the difficulties she may face as the child of same-sex parents," Mrs. Nara delicately suggested, folding her hands on her legs.

"Hey, what are you saying?" Ichigo growled, but I lay my hand on his shoulder. Ten years ago, I may have ignored the woman's advice, but I had learned since then (often the hard way) that many things were simply out of my control. I knew that this life may be difficult for her, and Mrs. Nara obviously knew what she was talking about, so perhaps it would be wise to take her advice.

"Thank you. That would be wonderful," I said, slipping my hand down to hold Ichigo's, if only to shut him up.

"Good. I think we should meet again after she speaks with the counselor. I'll have the secretary call you to make an appointment." I nodded, pulling Ichigo up and speaking before he could open his mouth.

"Very nice to meet you. Please send Rikichi our congratulations." After quickly shaking her hand and wishing her well, I dragged Ichigo from the office and out of the building.

"What the hell, Ora! She was insulting our parenting skills!" he yelled, though he was allowing me to steer him down the street without complaint.

"No she wasn't" I calmly corrected him. "She's a professional, accustomed to dealing with children. Any advice she gives us, we would be foolish to ignore." Ichigo stopped, bringing me to a halt as well. Chocolate eyes bored into mine, fierce and determined as ever, but hiding the smallest amount of insecurity.

"Do you really think that counselor knows how to raise our daughter better than we do?"

"I do not assume to know everything about parenting. Mamiko has Yuzu, Karin, and Rukia, but they are no replacement for a constant female presence in her life. Perhaps this will be good for her."

Ichigo sighed then continued to walk for a while, a distant look clouding his eyes. Though he said nothing, I knew he was thinking of his mother. He's grown up without her, which had always been so painful for him and still was. I'd grown up without a mother as well, but, unlike him, I'd not had the love and support of a family to help me. Looking back on my childhood and thinking of Ichigo's, I couldn't help but think that with so many people who loved her all around, Mamiko was incredibly lucky. In a gesture that would seem insignificant coming from anyone else, I reached out and brushed my fingertips against the back of Ichigo's hand. His gaze me mine and he smiled softly, shaking his head a bit.

"You're right, as always. I guess it's just hard to admit that I don't know what the hell I'm doing with Mami half the time. I don't even want to think about when she goes through puberty." I shuddered at the thought myself.

"She has Rukia and your sisters to explain to her… woman's things," I said delicately, waving a hand in gesture. Ichigo smirked, then chuckled lightly. Luckily we had a few more years until we would come upon that milestone. I walked as far as the subway station with him, but at that point we parted; Mamiko was getting out of school in thirty minutes and I had to be there to pick her up, so there was no sense in me going back to the clinic only to turn around again.

Sure enough, by the time I had made it back to the school (having taken a scenic rout in order to admire the fine weather) a steady trickle of children were pouring from the school, some to their waiting parents and others in small groups to the station or to nearby homes. I spotted Mamiko quickly, her black ponytail bouncing and bright yellow backpack glaring at me from the crowd. She was dressed in her school uniform, a pleated grey skirt with a button-up shirt. It was so hard to keep those white, especially on the girl who managed to make water stain.

"Hi, Dad," she greeted me once she was close enough to be heard. "Hang on a sec, okay?" Smiling at my slight nod, she turned back to say something to one of her friends, a little boy in her grade. For some reason she seemed more comfortable with male friends, having remained completely unaffected by the fear of "cooties" that most of her classmates suffered from.

"Okay, I'm ready," she informed me once the boy had nodded and trotted away to his own mother. "Is Daddy at work?"

"Yes. He had to go back after our conference with Mrs. Nara."

"Oh." She shrank back a bit guiltily; she knew why we'd had to go see her principle.

"We'll talk about that later," I told her, grabbing her hand as we crossed a street that was heavy with traffic. "Aunt Karin is here, so we're going to have dinner at your grandfather's house." At this news she lit up, any trace of remorsefulness forgotten as she happily swung our connected arms.

"Yay! Will Aunt Yuzu be there too?"

"Yes. She didn't have to teach today."

"What are we eating?" The inevitable question. It was a testament to her love for her aunts that it came second.

"I don't know. Aunt Yuzu is cooking." I paused as we walked on to the subway train, carefully looking around for any danger. Old habits die hard. "How was your day?"

"Good. Tome brought his pet frog to science class, and in art we got to use paint. Mrs. Kodaishi said that my rose was really good, the one I painted, but Tome said it looked like pink poop. I would have been really mad, except that Yatoro said he shouldn't go insulting other people's paintings when his own looked like an upside-down chicken with a squished hat on…" she continued like this for the entire ten-minute ride, describing every aspect of her day to me. I smiled lightly, nodding every now and again when she expected me to and taking in every word. Ichigo often made the mistake of tuning out when she rambled, and always paid dearly for it. The wrath of a ten-year-old girl is surprisingly strong. By the time we reached the clinic I had heard all about not only Tome's frog and art class, but also recess, reading time, and lunchtime.

She stopped dead in her story, however, as soon as she looked in the glass doors of the clinic and saw her Aunt Yuzu sitting behind the desk I usually occupied. Heaving the heavy door open, she sprinted behind it to engulf her tiny aunt in a hug, backpack still strapped to her.

"Hi Aunt Yuzu!" she exclaimed, giggling as the tiny woman held her in her arms and looked her over.

"You've gotten so big!"

"Auntie, you saw me last week," Mamiko reprimanded, smiling all the same.

"But you've grown even since. Come on, your Aunt Karin wants to see you." With a glance to me, she got up from her seat and followed Mamiko back to the house portion of the clinic.

"Thank you," I said softly before she left.

"No problem!" she chirped, leaving me to my position.

Dinner passed quickly, the whole family crowded around the table for the first time in a while. Mamiko chatted the entire time, shining as ever in her position as the center of attention. Ichigo and I both knew she was a bit spoiled (especially by Isshin), but as long as she was happy we couldn't bring ourselves to mind much. Regardless, her fighting was something we couldn't ignore, so as soon as everything had settled down and we were back at home, it was time to talk to her.

She knew it was coming, probably from the meaningful glance that Ichigo gave me before sending her off to brush her teeth and telling her we'd be in afterwards. Looking worried as she went, Ichigo turned to me, face serious.

"So what will we tell her?"

"That we are disappointed, and due to her unacceptable actions the principle has required that she see the counselor." Ichigo rolled his eyes.

"How many times do I have to tell you that 'cold and direct' isn't always the best approach?" he groaned in exasperation.

"Fine, then, what do you suggest?"

"Well—" Ichigo started, but was interrupted by a small voice behind us.

"Dad? Daddy?" Mamiko called, standing in her doorway dressed in pajamas. I felt my features softening as she gazed at us, probably knowing exactly what we were talking about. Sighing, Ichigo walked over to her, me following behind. Mamiko turned and got in bed, leaving the covers pushed down as I sat at the foot of the bed and Ichigo knelt beside her.

"We went to see the principle today," he started. Her face screwed up a bit, waiting for the punishment to come.

"Fighting is unacceptable, Mamiko. You know that," I added. "Why did you do it?" Suddenly her pained expression changed to a very familiar one of defiance.

"Tanaka Akemi called you guys… a very bad word. The one that that guy used that time before Daddy punched him." Ah, so he _was_ where she'd learned it… A similar thought seemed to be going through Ichigo's head because he paled a bit and shot me a guilty glance.

"Um, what I did was very, uh, wrong and a, er… very bad example."

"It wasn't just that, though. He said that people didn't have two dads, that it was weird, and that you were bad parents for me to have." A saddened expression crossed he face before her resolve returned. "But I told him he was wrong, that you were the best and that his own parents must be bad if they let him say words like those!"

Pride tinged Ichigo's next words, try as he might to cover it up with forced disapproval. "You stood up for what you believed, which was good. But you still shouldn't have hit him. Fighting him won't make him believe you, it'll just make everyone upset."

"Your father is right. The principle wants you to see the counselor so that you can talk to her about why you were so upset."

"I don't wanna see her! Only weird kids do."

"It will be a good opportunity to speak with someone other than family about some of the things that are difficult for you because we're different. And she can help you learn ways to deal with people like Tanaka without fighting them." Mamiko huffed a bit but seemed to have accepted that the meeting was inevitable.

"Besides, it's a bit of time out of class," Ichigo interjected. I held back the urge to roll my eyes as Mamiko brightened a bit at this.

"Okay, then, fine" she mumbled begrudgingly.

"Good girl." Ichigo planted a kiss in her hair then stood as I rose as well. After Mamiko had settled herself in, I pulled up the covers, tucking her in as I had when she was smaller and still did occasionally.

"Good night, Dad. I love you."

"I love you, too." I kissed her forehead then walked over to the door, waiting for Ichigo. "Night, Daddy. I love you."

"Love you too, munchkin." Flipping the switch on the lights, I left her door open just a crack before heading with Ichigo to our room.

"That went well," he called from the bathroom as he changed and got ready for bed.

"Hm…" I changed myself, then joined him by the sink. "I told you it was your bad habit she picked up on." Ichigo made some odd noises, mouth too full of his toothbrush to properly defend himself. Smirking, I quickly finished up in the bathroom before joining Ichigo on the bed.

"She did pick up some more desirable qualities of yours, though, as well," I said off-handedly as I nestled in beside him.

"Oh, yeah? I'm surprised you'll admit I have any." This time I didn't restrain my eyes, letting them roll at him before they filled with sincerity.

"She has your determination, and strong belief in what's right." Our eyes met, pride and love for his child making Ichigo's a smoldering caramel color.

"But she's smarter than me, more like you in that way. I'd have never accepted having to go to counseling, thinking I had to go it alone."

Smiling ever so slightly, I leaned in and caught his lips with mine, letting him know that neither of us would be alone anymore. He seemed to get the message, taking over and kissing me soundly before we broke apart. With one last quick peck, he flipped the lamp off and we settled into bed, cuddled close, content to drift off to sleep and let a new day dawn.

A/N: Thanks for reading! This was the last little bit, written in fits and spurts over a long period of time, but hopefully it adds some closure. Thanks one last time for giving my story a bit of your time. And I've forgotten this disclaimer the whole time! I do not own _Bleach_. There.


End file.
